Walking with Mary in Lent - 6

Back on the road and heartily protected Mary could relax. The road was wider and fully paved and being next to the Jordan River, cooler. Her unrest, settled. She travelled with the cart full of children, whom she sat teaching; her little bird always at her side.

Mary found she could teach children to pray easier, through images of her own life story.

“Yes” she had started, “Of course God exists. You are living proof of His love. God gives us life, if we accept it…but to live it is not enough to breathe. One must choose goodness. Evil kills the soul, even if you continue breathing. Righteousness is the Light that guides the soul to God. You must say -NO!- to wicked evildoers and -YES!- to goodness. You decide. Physical life is like a glove worn for all to see; but the hand within is like the soul, that actually moves the glove with life.”

She continued, exemplifying God´s presence in her own life. There was much excitement and awe as she started..

 “I was alone, about my chores, praying my psalms inwardly, as I often did, when suddenly, a bright flickering light appeared to project what I was sure, was an angel.”

She rarely described this very intimate recollection. It seemed so farfetched and difficult to believe…that now, as she retold it, she couldn´t remember if it was real, or just the way she had described it to herself so many times before.

‘Perhaps it was because she was a descendant of David on her father's side, or because she descended from Aaron on her mother's side….that God had sent her a messenger to reassure her saying…’

"You have found favor with God."

How could she, a lowly Nazarene, no more than fourteen, an orphan given unto Joseph, a poor carpenter, as a bride, be so highly regarded by God?

"Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you…"continued the angel.

Mary told the children that the apparition greatly troubled her, wondering what it portended.

"Do not be afraid, Mary”, the angel continued, as if aware of her fear. "Would you be of child and give birth to a son who would save people from their sins?” He asked of her. “He would not come to judge the world; nor come to blame but would only come to seek to save those who would be saved,” he said.

He went on "The child would be Son of the Most High."

‘Was the angel actually asking if she would bare God’s son? If she would have the long-awaited promise of redemption from sin?’…she thought to herself in disbelief.

Mary looked the apparition over. ‘Who was this messenger of God? Was he good or evil? Was he tempting her with such words of praise?’  ‘Could he really be asking her to accede to this almost unimaginable privilege?’

“Jehovah God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule as king over the house of Jacob forever, and there will be no end to his kingdom.”

Of course Mary knew of the promise God had made to David more than one thousand years earlier​, assuring that one of his descendants would rule forever. ‘Could it possibly be that she was being offered to bear the son who would be the Messiah, whom God’s people had been hoping for, for so long?

‘She, a lowly maid’….she continued in disbelief… till it struck her that her cousin Elizabeth had just herself, shared a similar experience. Her husband Zechariah, had also had an apparition saying “Do not be afraid; your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to call him John”.

Remarkably Elizabeth had, in her old age, become pregnant! The angel must be the same messenger, Archangel Gabriel!

Again the angel promised, "You could be with child and give birth to a son whose name would be Jhesus".

Startled, and now exhilarated with excitement and humble acceptance Mary asked, "How could it be, since I am a virgin."

“It is your grace and purity that make you virgin, Mary, worthy to be called the Mother of God”.

“Why haven´t you asked Joseph, first, as you did, Zechariah?” She asked.

“It is the fruit of your womb that will undo the fruit of that forbidden tree” said the Angel.

And breaking down in total submission "I am a handmaid of the Lord - the lowliest of God's servants”, Mary replied, “Pray for me a sinner, since I am unworthy to bear such grace”.

Immediately falling on his knees the angel replied , “It is I who ask you to pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death”.

And looking up at the skies as if replying to God directly, Mary said, “Not my will, but Yours be done, My Lord” and looking down at the angel at her feet, replied “aye, aye” and started crying in total surrender.

"The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you" said the angel to Mary, and compassionately reassured her that she would not be alone, “For nothing is impossible to God."

Through her tears, Mary was able to reply, "May it be to me as you have said."

Jair, the faithful servant, now free, sat up front, driving the horses that pulled the cart along the moving caravan. He had been overhearing in silent adoration, the miracle story of Jhesus, his healer and savior. He sat beside himself in tears.

Mary thought to herself as the children marveled, that she had accepted the role, given, of mother of Jhesus. Yet she knew a cost would be involved, and since her joy had been unsurpassable, the cost would surely too, be unsurmountable.



“Love has a cost. The more we love, the more we suffer, unless we let the loving be done through us. Then it becomes eternal”, I thought as I walked with Mary, this Lent.

Walking woth Mary in Lent - 3

Journey 3


Unrest continued gnawing at Mary’s soul. She knew not why. Her heart was split between her eager desire to see her son, and a strange resistance that kept wanting to hold her back and stay home. She was scared, but knew not why. This on-going infighting made her strangely irritable. She, who was known for her serene and peaceful nature, was uptight. It was in this mood that she snapped at Omar. Luckily, he was not around to hear her complain about his leaving the palm tree leaves, in a pile under the shadow of a tree, instead of laying them out one, by one, to dry. Just as she was picking one of the palm sheaths up, setting herself to the task, she felt a sudden stinging pain. Her had immediately swelled and was fast becoming numb, when she screamed for help. Omar, still on a palm tree cutting leaves nearby, ran to his grandmother´s call. He found her on the floor, feeling faint. He recognized the symptoms immediately. It wasn´t uncommon to find scorpions on palm tree leaves, at this time of the year. She had been stung. He knew that, though scorpions in the region were not deadly, they could stop your breath. So he wasted no time hurrying to bare her arm and tie it with her sash, as he took her hand and started sucking on the wound. Over and over he spit the venom out, flushing her blood out painstakingly. Slowly, she came back to herself, regaining her strength. Seeing she was better Omar rushed to find and kill the scorpion, but Mary held him back. “Don´t” she said faintly. “Even scorpions are God’s creatures. His sting is a sign that must be honored. Let him be”.

Back in the house, when the commotion had stilled and nightfall befell, Mary wondered to herself, what it all meant. ‘Let it be, let it be’ she kept repeating, as if to convince herself to stop trying to control fate and ‘let go’. She found solace in her psalms and prayed: “Out of the depth I cry to you- Lord, hear my prayer; let your ears hear my voice of supplication” and after bitter tears, finally subdued, she continued, “My soul relies on your word -Your will be done, not mine”, and at last in resignation, she found peace and fell asleep.



As I prayed with Mary, I found it was my profound grief that yearned for relief. Presently, I realized that it was I who was making the trip to Jhesus. I had been on the road all my life, resisting the suffering that necessarily lied ahead. And I cried bitterly. “Mary, walk with me”, I prayed.

Walking with Mary in Lent -2

Journey 2


There was a lot of bustle in town, with men, women and children packing for Pesach (Passover). Everyone seemed to be going to Jerusalem. For seven days, all Israel would be commemorating their freedom from Egyptian slavery. Mary had learned about it from her father, Heli Joachim and Hanna, her mother, who, in turn had retold the story, they had heard from their forefathers. At nightfall, Hebrews would honor the memory of the midnight of the 15th of the month of Nissan in the year 2448 from creation, when, during special Seder meals, chametz (leaven) would be replaced by matzah (unleavened bread) and maror (bitter herbs). Over four cups of wine, they would retell how, after many decades of backbreaking labor and unbearable horrors, God had sent His last warning to Egyptian pharaohs, to set Israelite slaves free. Despite ten devastating plagues that had destroyed everything from livestock to crops, Egyptian pharaohs still held them hostage. Because God wanted His people to serve Him, He wrought upon Egyptians, the death of all their firstborn children, “passing over” Hebrew homes, whose children were spared.



For Mary it was not a celebration that she wished to remember. She would have preferred to totally overlook the date, blocking it out completely, if it hadn’t been for Sarah, Her eldest son’s wife, who had insisted on having them join the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The date evoked painful memories of a similar massacre which she and Joseph had rushed from, scuttling their firstborn out of Israel, back into Egypt when he was just a baby. It had been horrible. She still couldn´t understand what had happened. If it hadn´t been for her loving angel, who had warned them just in time to flee, she herself would have chosen to be killed along with her adored Jhesus.



It was early spring, the Hebrew month of Nissan, and the trip to celebrate Pesach, gave her the perfect excuse to go to Jerusalem. She was planning to go anyway, and it would avoid having to find a reason why she wanted to go, in the first place. She really didn´t know. Confessing it was because of an intuitive presage, would have put her in the lips of all, who were already spreading venom critically, about Jhesus and His friends.



She had continued pondering over the killing of Egyptian firstborn and her similar experience, wondering why such innocent sacrificial lambs had to die in the first place. It almost seemed to be a prerequisite for Life, to continue. Her mulling was abruptly interrupted when Sarah rushed over to hug her. “Thank you”, she said effusively, “Oh! Thank you! I’ll be able to see James! He will be so happy to see the children!”



Later that day, while starting to bake provisions for their trip, her thoughts went back to Egypt. She thought of the food needed to feed the six hundred thousand men, women and children, leaving Egypt on their trek to Mount Sinai. ‘Of course!’ They would have to prepare matzah, flat unleavened bread, zealously guarded against moisture, instead of chametz, for it to last! ‘So that´s why handmade schmurach matzah was dried from the moment of harvest’, she thought.



Celebrating the Passover Seders required strict adherence to traditional Hebrew rituals which would be difficult to adhere to, while travelling. She tried to convince herself that honoring the miracle of liberty didn´t need strict following of the obliged fifteen-ritual-ceremony. ‘Just bringing the family together and sharing Seders with the boys in Jerusalem was a feast in itself. They were travelling from so far away’ she reflected. ‘The greatest miracle they would celebrate would be the life they had had after such near death’.

Back home, the celebration would require intensive spring-cleaning, in search of all leavened grain. Any food or drink with a trace of wheat, barley, rye or oats would have to be disposed of and destroyed. Mary was convinced that the burning of the chametz ceremony, the morning prior to Pesach, could be replaced with acts of humility. ‘The flat, unflavored bread just required ridding inflated selves, to be able to tap into the miraculous well of divine energy we all have within our souls’, she thought. So, taking her cue from the matzah, she would give away something personal to the needy, before they left. That would cleanse her from chametz.

‘Of course, the recitation of the Haggadah, could not be replaced’. It was an obligation to recount the story of the Exodus on the night of Passover.

Though the commemoration should last the whole week, the first two Seder nights would be enough to rejoice over the miracle of being together; that in itself would be a full celebration.

‘Oh!’ She thought suddenly, ‘She must take the wine for Kiddush. Sanctifying the shabbath would require wine!’ She would ask Sarah to make a leather bag, from the sheeps´hide they were preparing. The trip´s continual travelling would help crush the grapes and shake them enough to settle into wine, just in time for Pesach.



Urgency pressed her on. So, she eked out the strength to continue her diligent preparation.

‘Where was it they were going!?’….she rummaged. Again, the familiar foreboding had her envision a coming storm… She automatically diverted from her pressing pessimism, assuring it was because it would surely rain. ‘She had to ask her little grandson, Omar, to cut some palm tree leaves to take along, for shelter’.



For years, Mary had opened her home to villagers for afternoon prayers. They had formed quite a large group of regulars, that always left an air of benediction. And she was grateful for it. But lately she had left vespers and preferred to pray alone in the garden´s grove. Her spirit stirred with unrest and only solitude gave her solace.

That afternoon, she had unwittingly kept repeating ‘Abba, Aboon’ (“Father, Our Father” in Aramaic). Over and over, her heart beat to that mantra-like plea, surging from some profound, dire prayer.

‘Aboon Dbashmayo’ (“Our Father who art in Heaven”)… she continued, with desperate persistence. ‘Oh! But “heaven” seemed so far from the everyday chaos which Romans had wrought…’she thought hopelessly. As if to suppress her distrust, she suddenly remembered the comforting words with which Isabel had greeted her, years back, when both cousins had shared their fears during pregnancy.

“Moran a'amekh”, (“the Lord is with thee”), Isabel had reminded her, as they greeted… ‘Yes, my Father is always with me’ she repeated to herself, again and again, till her anguish was finally appeased.          



As I reflected, in contemplation, I found myself, too, keeping unconscious rhythm to the same urgent plea…inhaling “Bless me…”, and exhaling “Bless all…, Abba, Aboon”.        

Walking with Mary in Lent -1

Journey 1


I found her shaking, trembling inconsolably…she shivered under a foreboding shadow of terror, she knew not why. She suddenly felt alone…She knelt and as She covered her eyes to cry. She found herself leaning her head on an angel´s lap…or was it Joseph´s? It seemed so familiar. She had recently lost him and found herself about to commiserate pitifully about her agony, to God. But Job had come to mind…and she held back.

Somehow, this was different.

Again, she felt lifeless, totally depleted. But this time, her intuitive nature had tearful anticipation, of a bleeding heart. She knew it wasn´t hers. Her heart could bear being torn apart and pierced for Love.. but this was a pain too heavy to bear. She wept and as she washed Her tears away, found Her hands were full of blood. The lap held her bleeding face reassuringly. She cuddled closer, letting go. It somehow held her up and gave Her strength… and eventually peace.. not from acceptance but from holy resignation. “Not my will but Yours, be done, My Lord” She whispered….and fell asleep on the holy lap.

An hour went by, or was it a day.. it felt like centuries… She arose, strengthened with a courage beyond herself. Strangely, she had her son in mind, strongly fixed on going to Jerusalem. It was an urgent need to see Him.



Mary lived in Nazareth, in a little home embedded in the mountain. It was close to a well, with grounds, big enough to breed her chickens, goats and host a little garden with fruit trees and the herbs needed for healing the neighboring villagers. She lived with two daughters-in-law who kept her company and helped around the house. Her sons had gone off with Jhesus, stubbornly insisting he would need them. It was all so unexpected, so unconceivable…..far from anything She had ever hoped for them. Times were hard and unpredictable with luring danger all around. They all said it was the Romans who were the enemy, but somehow she distrusted even the Jews who now seemed so foreign.

She walked up to cup seeds in her hand and feed the chickens and a little bird she kept in an open cage. He had refused to fly away after healing his broken wing in her hands. His singing always eased her anguish.

It would take her at least two weeks to prepare for the trip to Jerusalem. She was already making a mental list of all She would have to do…fix olives…(would she pickle them or put them in vinegar?) She would have to buy fish (perhaps she would ask one of the local villagers to fish a fresh shoal for her, on the fishermen’s next trip to sea, at Galilee). She would have to salt it and hang it up to dry for at least a week…and Oh! She just had to finish the lovely silk shroud She had been weaving for Jhesus…She so worried about him and his nomadic travels through cold and winds.

It was at least 100 miles to Jerusalem. It would take well over 8 days to get there, since, she wouldn´t be travelling alone. Her two daughters’ in law would have to accompany her. She was 47 years old now. Her hair was almost completely grey and her feet were worn with life. Though she felt strong, they would have to take her 3 grandchildren along. The older one, now twelve, reminded her so much of Jhesus when she and Joseph had spent days looking for him in Jerusalem. He was about the same age. They had been so worried, back then…and, as it gladly turned out, needlessly so. Now, she was confident God would always be taking care of him, or would He? Could He? She shivered at the mere doubt and threw aside her ungodly thoughts.



Yes, they would have to travel along the Jordan, where they could quell the thirst of their caravanning animals. They would have to take the old cart, and at least three of four of the donkeys…and the mule would have to tag along just to carry enough food for the trip, and an additional rationing she wanted to take for Jhesus and the boys. She yearned eagerly to see Him and yet she froze at the thought.

It was a 90-mile walk to the village of Ein Karem, John the Baptist’s traditional birth place, and only five miles more to Jerusalem from the southwest. They would surely have to stay a day or two at Martha and Lazarus’ home. They would not forgive her if they knew she was going to Jerusalem and didn´t stop by to see them. They lived at al-Eizariya, Bethany, about two hours from Jerusalem. Perhaps she would find Jhesus there. She knew he always stayed with them. It was safe, and they were always so loving. What would she take for them? She remembered Lazarus had been ill for a while. After pausing to think of it, she was appeased with the idea of carving them some prayer beads.



‘Oh!’ She thought to herself suddenly, as the idea caught up with her that she would also have to churn goats’ milk to take some cheese. Yes, there was much to do.



It was a couple days later, when despite her busy agenda, a sullen sadness weighed down upon her shoulders, again. It even blocked the sunlight as it filtered through the grove, where she was pulling spices for her cooking.  She suddenly burst out crying, despairingly, not knowing why. Her tears fell to the ground. Unexpectedly, a flower bloomed where her tears had fallen, as if filled with holy compassion. ‘Hold on’, it seemed to say, and she smiled inadvertedly. ‘Had that flower been there before’, she wondered?

Just then, her dogs ran directly to her side, wagging their tails excitedly, as if she had called for them. They had responded to her silent cry for solace. She patted them and pulled out, some dry unleaved bread from her garments´s pocket, which she had been crumbling for the chickens. They wagged on, gratefully. Oh! If only she could be so trusting; if only she could rejoice at little things and overlook the shadow of death that loomed beside Her. Again, she looked up at the Heavens and heaved heavily for breath.

Urgency returned, and pressed her on to hurry with her chores. ‘She would have to take the dogs along’, she thought to herself, regaining serenity.




As I contemplated, meditating over the scene, reliving every imagined detail, I realized Mary’s trip would take longer than the 40 days of Lent. In fact, her journey is probably still on-going, since she would be trying to reach each us all.