Here is Your Mother

The Easter mandate we should take pains to remember

Photo by Cdoncel on Unsplash

It seems like there is a lot of controversy to talk about this Easter season. From the White House recognizing Easter Sunday as the “Trans Day of Visibility” instead, to the drama surrounding the phrase “Christ is King” and the intentions behind such a statement…this is probably the most political Easter I can remember in my lifetime.

And while I’m as enthralled with all the chatter as everyone else, as I sat down to write my Easter message, I just couldn’t work up the motivation to join in on those particular conversations. There will plenty of time to dig into all that. This weekend is about Jesus and the work of the Cross.

As I was reading through the Gospel stories of the Resurrection, one piece stood out to me in a way it hasn’t ever before. It comes to us from the Apostle John, who was present at the crucifixion, and stood at the foot of that cross with Jesus’ mother, Mary and others. Before he draws his last breath, Jesus looks to John who is near Mary and makes a very human request…take care of my mother.

John 19:25-27: “Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.”

I’ve not given this particular passage a lot of thought over the years, perhaps because this is a section of the Bible I typically read around this time and my thoughts are almost always focusing on Jesus’ distress and the miracle of his resurrection from death. But this year, an election year, feels particularly divisive and (everyone would probably agree) angry. Everything feels like it’s falling apart at the seams. Everyone seems to have retreated to their corners, certain that there is no more common ground to be found. Add the social consequences of pandemic isolation that we are only now just beginning to understand and it’s all an equation for loneliness. If feels like we aren’t caring for each other the way we used to.

Maybe that’s why this passage struck me so hard this year. It’s a mandate left by the Messiah, so important he used his last few precious breaths to utter it. As a mother, I see this as a unique glimpse into Jesus’ humanity. He was fully God, but also fully man, and every good man loves his mama. One of his last humanly concerns was for her. Mary was most likely a widow by that time, and while within that culture it would have been expected her other sons would care for her, Jesus’ brothers had not yet come to believe he was the Messiah. Jesus did not just want his mother to have her physical needs met, he was concerned for her soul and her future in the Kingdom he was presently dying for. We don’t know much about what became of Mary after her son’s crucifixion, but we can be sure she was cared for, because the Savior requested it. It is a tender moment that reminds us of the bond between parent and child.

It is a mandate for all of us, really. We know Jesus’ last words.

It is finished.

There must have been a measure of relief in that statement.

But we can’t forget the other words he uttered to his faithful companion.

Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.”

It is a command for us all. Here is your son. Here is your mother. Here is your neighbor. Here is your colleague. Here is your enemy. Take care of him. Take care of her. Take care of them.

This Sunday as many in America celebrate the Resurrection, either directly or by simply basking in the cultural moment, let us remember Christ’s sacrifice and his victory over death. And let us also remember his mandate - to care for one another, to make sure no one is left to be alone.

We do not possess the type of power needed to upend sin and death for eternity, but we have been given the capacity to love, which is power enough for these earthly confines.

This Resurrection Sunday, let us love.

Happy Easter.