A mother’s odyssey

Siripathy Jayamaha

On this sad day, shall we be with the Mother of the crucified Lord Jesus my beloved son was on His way up to Calvary. I followed him. James, John, Peter, Mary of Magdala and a few others were with me. It was unbearable. He was carrying a heavy piece of timber on His shoulders. Bent low, face, wreathed in pain. But calm. How many times had I applied oil on His shoulders after He had helped Joseph in carrying heavy pieces of logs into our workshop. He would always say ‘Thank you mother’ with a massive hug. How I loved that hug. Peter came up to me ‘Yes’ I said “I know about it, but I know that He loves you very much.” Peter kept his head on my shoulders.” Not once Mary, but thrice. He cried bitterly. I heard that pantious pilate had washed his hands during my boys so called trial, had said that he has nothing to do with this innocent man. He had wanted to release Him. But he had to give into the scribes and promises lest he be reported to Rome. Fear made him go against his conscience. I felt sorry for him amidst my grief.

My darling son fell. He was in great pain. Hunger, thirst, the scourging, the hideous crown of thorns caused my lovely son to fall. They got an outsider, Simon the Cyrenian to help Him. An order, He obeyed. I ran upto Him. A soldier approached me, his whip raised, either to strike me or my son.

He wanted no delays. My son, turned His head and smiled at him. The soldier, gazed at him for some time, lowered his whip and backed away. I went up to him. What more grief can a mother endure than to see her innocent only child on his way to certain death. He looked at me and smiled. That smile.

The very same. The same as when he smiled as a naughty boy at home, with Joseph, my mother and me. Smiling, singing, sitting on His grandma’s lap. The smile when we chided Him for making us so worried during our visit to the temple in Jerusalem. The same when he smiled at me in Cana after acceding to my request.

At my home, with his disciples and the contagious smile after He had taught us to pray to His father. Then, I recalled my own words “Be it done to me according to thy word. Yes! He had completed going about his father’s business and was on his final journey.

The soldier with the whip gently led me away. Later, I heard that my son had told some weeping women – not to cry for Him, but their children and their children’s children.

We were at the foot of the cross. There was darkness all over. The dark clouds seem to form a canopy of darkness all over. As if they wanted to be witnesses to this tragedy.

They stripped off His garments. For a mother, to see her son stripped off his garments or without them from cradle to grave in times of necessity is nothing to be scorned at. But seeing one’s own flesh and blood in his adulthood being subject to this humiliation is unbearable. I closed my eyes. We were strangers in this place. Some were laughing. A few in tears. Dare we to go against lawmakers and Rome.

Jesus my son was laid on the cross. How He waited when those nails went into His palms. He was struggling. So they kept His feet together and sent a nail through them. He remained still. Those hands. How many times had he caressed my face, the heads of little children with those hands. How many times had He raised His hand in healing the sick. Touched them.

They were the very same hands that were raised up to heaven when teaching us pray to our Heavenly Father. And His feet. The feet that I annointed and caressed when he retired to bed after His many journeys by foot. Most of all, I recollect how He used to keep me on His lap and embrace me when I told Him about my concern towards Him. How we walked. Joseph, my boy and I laughing, chatting.

They raised the cross. Two convicts were strung up on crosses – one on His right, the other on the left. They were only tied to their crosses as was custom. My Jesus was nailed. To the soldiers this was a common occurrence. Strange. The one who preached on love and forgiveness was between two who practised and resorted to violence and murder. I saw one of the convicts say something to my son. Jesus responded. I saw one on cross smile at Him. He seemed very happy. Peter told me later that the man had told my son to remember him when in paradise. Jesus had said that verily he would be with Him that day in Paradise. No wonder the good man was so elated. I heard him say ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.

I remember my son, looking at young John, then at me. “Behold your son “He said feebly. Next, ‘Behold your mother’. I suddenly felt so happy. I recalled those magnificent words of mine uttered about thirty three ago. ‘My soul does magnify the Lord’s and that at generations shall call me Blessed. I felt at that moment that He made me a mother for all generations. John read my thoughts. He embraced me so affectionately. My son was dying. He was gasping for breath. “I thirst” he said.

They held a sponge fixed on to a spear, upto his mouth. I was happy. He spat out what was in the sponge. It was vinegar. To ask for water and to give vinegar to a dying person. Unthinkable. How many times had my Boy said “Mother, your seasoning this dish with vinegar makes it taste wonderful. ‘Yes’, yes’! Joseph used to say “Everything your mother cooks is wonderful. With or without vinegar. Happy memories, but at what a time. I cried.

He was straining Himself. His muscles were stretched. I looked away. Mary, Magdalene put her arms round me and brought me close to her bosom.

Then He shouted.

It was a voice like no other. The soldiers too stopped joking and chatter. They looked up. I saw the soldier who, had come towards us with the whip. Wiping tears. They had said ‘surely He was innocent and is the son of God”.

Then these words. “Unforgettable”

“Father into thy hands I commend my spirit.”

Then my Jesus bowed His head and died.

My sweet son, son of the Eternal Father left us.

Then I knew that this was going to be the Beginning.

The Beginning that will never ever have an end.

We were standing there. Desolation and death all over. We were at the foot of the cross. Blood was still trickling down the cross. A few drop fell on my body, clothes and face. The earth below the cross was coagulated with His blood.

We took Him down. They placed His lifeless Body on my lap. How light He was. They say, that in death a body becomes heavy. Perhaps He did not want to burden me, any more. He had burdened my heart and body many times, the flight into Egypt, lost in the temple in Jerusalem, anxiety and concern on hearing His scathing utterances about the scribes and the pharisees.

A close friend and councillor. Joseph of Aramoethia bequeathed the tomb he had prepared for himself. He said that there was no greater honour than to give his tomb to Jesus. I was so grateful. I recalled my Jesus words “Greater love than this no man has, than for him to give his life for his friend.” Josph met pilate and got the body released for burial. Later, he told me that Pilate was very eager to release the body. He had felt that pontious pilate was not at all happy about this sad event of the day. We laid Him to rest.

We came home. All were silent. Veronica my friend wanted to show me the face of my son that had got imprinted on her shawl, when she wiped the blood splattered face of my Boy.

Peter took it away from her. They did not want me to see His face. My friends helped me to change my blood smeared clothes. All were tired. Me too. I slept. The following day was the Sabbath.

Early, on Sunday morning, I heard a lot of laughter and shouting. “Mary” they shouted “Our Lord has risen from the dead. I was absolutely joyous. All of us went towards the sepulcher. It was empty.

The happy group who had gone to anoint the body as was custom had found the tomb opened. His burial clothes everywhere. Strewn all over. All but for His own garments. They had been scared.

A young person had asked them “why seek the living among the dead?” Then they knew. They knew in the most beautiful manner that my Jesus had risen from the dead.

What Joy.

Me, a humble Jewish mother had been exalted to a position as no other mother in the world.

Be it done to me according to your word.

This was the fountain of a new life.

I wandered and thanked our father.

How many will find a New Life and live happily because of this New Life.

How many will lay down their lives in the name of this new found life.