Challenging the Icon of Mary

When I think of Mary, the chosen mother of Christ, I think of one iconic image. I think of the Catholic version of the eternal virgin on a pedestal. This doesn’t seem right, and I am forced to try and redefine a narrative that has been typecast for centuries.

I have never been able understand the story of Mary in its original image. It has always been delivered as a preset image, a singular perspective story. Since my first memories in youth, Mary has been a white woman in her 20s. She was unapproachable in her iconic virgin mother status. What I believe we have forgotten is that this poorly constructed icon is not even the beginning of her story, nor is it the end of it. In understanding that Mary outlived Jesus I realized that there was more to her story; I needed to challenge the narrative I had been handed. I just needed to embrace imagination and wonder.

Never in my youth did I imagine Mary as a fourteen-year-old Jewish girl in danger of being cast out and stoned by her family for being pregnant. Never did I picture this young mother fleeing to Egypt as a refugee with a baby nursing at her breast, depending on her for warmth and safety.

I wonder if Mary had nightmares with so many possible deaths rallying in the shadows. Culturally speaking, her father could have killed her, or cast her to the streets, by default pushing her into slavery, prostitution or starvation. Joseph could have had her stoned for being pregnant before they were married. Herod was after the life of her child, and would not have thought twice about killing her as well. Mary lived under divine protection, and was pursued by human persecution.

I wonder at what kind of grandmother she became. Surely when Mary was around 50, and Jesus was 33 on the cross about to die, Mary was both mother and grandmother as she mourned and celebrated the sacrifice of her firstborn. I wonder how she taught her grandchildren. “Jacob, son of James” did she say, “your eldest uncle’s name was Jesus, he came to save our people, and all peoples. Read and study his teachings, do as he instructed!” Did she say, “Rachel and Hadessah! You love the lepers just as your mother’s brother, the Saviour, did!”

I wonder at the stories Doctor Luke tells in the gospels. Many of them seem so intimately insightful, as though Mary invited him in for tea while the Spirit prompted her to speak.

I see Mary becoming old friends with Luke, if not before he arrived at her home to visit, certainly after. Her eyes are dark with age and joy, with wrinkles and laugh lines in her dark skin. Her curly hair is streaked with grey as she welcomes him with a hug. I see orphans, widows and the outcast in her home. Luke is moved by her insights, her mother warrior strength, her holy quietness and depth of courage. He was moved by the way Mary profoundly pondered things like treasure in her heart, to the point where he found it important to note in the scriptures.

I see her teaching a new spiritual heritage to those around her, giving birth to a new standard of storytelling. Mary is not an icon any more, she is my friend now. I can see myself at her table, with her as she teaches the children Jesus loved. What is taught now is something different than what was taught before; it is a heritage of hope. The meek Mary I was told about, the one who pondered things with a shy untouchable white face, is now a vibrant and bold lady who is my friend.

I never knew this Mary in my youth, but my heart knows her now, and she is more than an icon. In her brown face I look for my reflection, hoping that I, too, will be able to embrace my life’s call with grace and courage as she did. She defied expectation as a virgin mother, and surely as a grandmother as well. Her son was a gift to her, and he became a man of the people. Jesus was tangible, loving and suffering with people. I can only image that his mother was as well, and love her more for it.

Brandi Thorpe, a blogger for Young Voices, resides for a season in Kitchener, Ont. Searching for the stories that often go unseen, she imagines more for the church. Currently she researches church traumas and the epidemic of silence.