Jesus has just performed his first public miracle. The set up makes me cringe a little, with the sheer humanness.. Mary tells Jesus that there’s no more wine. We’ve all done this, right? In an indirect way asked someone for something else. Mary didn’t actually ask Jesus to do anything. Maybe she wasn’t asking, just announcing to him. But the way the story goes on, it seems like it was a way for her to ask Jesus to do something about that problem. Jesus’ response is to say to her that the wine, or absence of it, is of no concern to her. I take this to be along the lines of ‘mind your own business’. This is a very typical human interaction between parent and child, or perhaps any two people. Someone offers a suggestion (directly or indirectly) about how someone else should behave or what they should do. And the advisee rebuffs the suggestion. This happens again to Mary elsewhere in the scripture, as she goes to visit him, and in response to being told she’s outside the door, Jesus says ‘who is my mother?’
But two things happen after this that don’t always happen to me. First, even after she hears, “woman, what concern is that to me?”, Mary simply points back to Jesus, telling the servants to do whatever he commands. Regardless of Jesus’ human nature, Mary continues to point to Jesus’ divine nature. The second thing that happens is that Jesus does make it his business. He performs the water-to-wine miracle. Although hers was a passive ask, and verbally rebuffed by Jesus, Mary is integrally involved and present for his first public miracle. And she continues to point to him.
This morning, I’m thinking about how inherently human Mary was, how she treated Jesus in a way we all have treated others we love. She made requests with Jesus via indirect statements. Check. She prompted him in public to perform. Check. She was rebuffed by him on several occasions. And still she continues to say Yes to God’s request to be Jesus’ mother.
Yes, she carried him and gave birth to him. But she also was his mother and present during his first public miracle. She was his mother when he got lost in the temple. She was his mother during his Passion, and execution. She was his mother at the cross.
I don’t mean to suggest that motherhood is the only relationship that can cause relatable-ness. But I can say that as a mother, her behavior and consistent love and redirecting to Jesus is a marvel to me. I suspect Mary can serve as a model to fathers, aunts, Godparents, loved ones in general. And today, for me, I’m struck by her motherhood.
As a mother, I’ve been rebuffed by my kids. I’ve seen them suffer. And I remain their mother. I will always be in their corner. And when it comes to my children, my actions, my focus, is or should be them.
That’s Mary’s gift, and why commemorating her feels fully appropriate. Yes, I model my life on Jesus. He was fully human, so he is a perfectly valid model of how God expects me to behave. But Jesus didn’t have physical children. Jesus didn’t have to watch Jesus suffer. Jesus wasn’t rebuffed by a child. But Mary experienced all this. Sometimes in life we are to be like Jesus, the star of the show. And sometimes we are called to act like Mary, the supporting actor. Mary doesn’t outshine Jesus. I don’t marvel or commemorate her because she’s God. But she is a fantastic icon for how to walk through this life, supporting and loving others. Letting them continue to have center stage, while you support from the wings.
Today, I give thanks for Mary’s unwavering love and support of Jesus, her trust in God’s will, and her constant ability to point all eyes to Jesus, from the wings.
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