Sarah gently held her mother’s wrinkled hand as they walked slowly through the narrow, dark hallway to the front door. She put on her coat, then turned again to her mother and took both her hands in her own. “Mom, are you sure you will be OK?” When small tears appeared in the corners of Judy’s eyes, Sarah tried to pull her hands away so she could take her coat off again. “It will be no problem for Tom to take care of Paul Jr. and little Ruth for another day. I just need to call him and let him know.”
Judy wouldn’t let go of Sarah’s hands. “That’s just nonsense, sweetie. You’ve got a fine husband and two of my wonderful grandchildren that are missing their mommy a lot. You be on your way. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?” Judy nodded with a smile. Sarah wrapped her arms around her mother in a tender hug, tearfully adding, “It’s only an hour’s plane ride to get here. Promise you’ll call me if there is anything I can do!”
They held each other tightly for an eternity before Judy chided, “I promise. Now save some of those hugs for Tom and your little ones at home.” She gave Sarah a gentle push toward the door.
One last, affectionate look, then Sarah was gone.
Judy made her way back down the hallway. Leaning her shoulder against the doorframe of their living room, she let her eyes slowly scan the bookshelves and artifacts that were everywhere. She could feel Paul’s presence – in the Buddha figure, in the Torah art, in the countless books on so many religions, and in the picture on the wall depicting Jesus transcending death on cross as he embraces St. Francis. Paul’s voice would get a little husky when he spoke of the look of exuberant, joyful anticipation on Saint Francis’ face.
Glancing nervously around, her brow furrowed as she hurried through the room into her study. Touching the marble statue of Mary on the table, she took in the peace of the Last Supper picture on the wall. After a few moments, she took her rosary from its holder and kneeled on her personal alter.
“Lord of mercy, in your caring hands,
I commit my beloved Paul who has died in Christ…”
by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo
She couldn’t continue as the tears flowed down her cheeks and into her lap. After a few moments, she added “… even if he didn’t know it.” With a sigh she began her rosary prayers. Finally, feeling a little calmer, she made her way to the bedroom and crawled into bed, falling into a deep sleep almost instantly.
At some point the swish of a gentle wind through the trees and a soft glow of light brought her back to consciousness. Was it moonlight? No, it was in the room itself. Slowly, slowly, it took the shape of a gentle woman.
“I’m Mary Magdalene, dear Judy, and we have heard your prayers of compassion for Paul. We are all here to give you comfort and strength.”
“All? What do you mean by ‘all’?” stammered Judy, equally confused and terrified.
The others slowly appeared, one by one.
“I’m Gotami, the Buddha’s aunt and foster mother. I truly understand the challenges that a mother has to deal with!”
“I’m Deborah, the Hebrew judge that led the Israelis in time of war. What an unruly bunch. They wouldn’t have had a chance without my intercession regarding honor and compassion.”
Then Khadijah bint Kuwaylid, the first wife of the Prophet Muhammad, followed by Angad Dev, the wife of the Sikh Guru, Tara, Parvati and many others. They happily chatted with each other as if it were an ordinary coffee klatch, exchanging ideas and sharing stories about mothering, compassion, and intervention to ease the suffering of others.
Judy sat up in bed, listening in shocked silence until she could stand it no longer. “Wait, WAIT! … Are you all telling me that my husband was right? That we don’t have to believe that Jesus died for our sins in order to get into heaven?”
Hebrew Bible
Silence reigned and empathetic looks were on each face. Finally Mary gently said, “The key is not what you believe for the future. It’s what you do here and now that matters. Choose whatever forms and rituals that connect you to honesty, grace, humility and conviction – and perform those with all your heart and soul.”
The others nodded their heads and murmured their agreement.
“How can that be?” countered Judy. “Luke, John and the other saints in the gospels all say we must accept Jesus as our savior or be condemned forever to hell.”
Khadijah jumped in before Mary could answer. “Well, Muhammad insisted we pray five times a day and accept him as the messenger of Allah rather than Jesus.” She chuckled gleefully. “A little bit suspicious, perhaps?”
“Buddha said if you don’t realize the emptiness of life and death, you add to your karma and continue suffering,” added Gotami.
The others wanted to say more, but Mary interrupted them. “You see my dear, the men were always focused on getting to the life after death. We women focus on living this life now.”
“But Genesis says that God made a woman from the rib of the man to be his companion and to help him. What does that mean?” asked Judy in a whisper.
Mary smiled mischievously before pointing out that Genesis had also been written by a man. “I have it on good authority that what really happened was that God looked at Adam and said, ‘I just know I can do better than that’!”
There was loud, hilarious laughter. Gaffah’s, Hee-hee’s, haw-haw’s …. CAW, CAW, CAW…
A startled Judy opened her eyes to see a big raven sitting on a branch outside her window. CAW…CAW…CAW once more. It’s dark black feathers contrasted sharply with the blue, morning sky outside.
Judy sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. “That was the strangest dream I have ever had.”
This fictional piece features some of the traditional female figures of the dominant world religions. It’s a continuation of my previous blog post.
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