I have no patience with dogma or with church hierarchies. Every institution, even those founded with a noble mission, tends to petrify and corrupt. The forces of power, authority and money seem to have a stronger magnetism for all but the holiest and when humility is lost (or never found), only a hollow shell remains.
My mother means so much to me. She lived an extraordinary, exemplary life. She died a peaceful, gracious death. She loved and was loved by so many people. Any moment that I feel her spirit living through me is a joyous moment, indeed.
After twelve years of teaching at one school, I was given a sabbatical, September through December, 2000. My Mom had passed away on October 5, 1999. So in many ways, when Alva and I set forth on our first trip to Italy, seven weeks of unhurried travel and weeklong stays, my mother's spirit still felt very present in my heart.
We had a glorious journey. The streets, the people, the grand architecture, the soul-melting art and, naturally, the food -- we flowed like olive oil from place to place, site to site, meal to meal. Neither of us remotely Catholic, we still were eager to visit the magnificent churches, chapels and cathedrals along our way.
Early on, starting in Verona, as we entered a church, I found myself being draw not only to the beautiful light streaming through stained glass windows and the awe-inspiring artworks and architecture, but also to the Italians coming to pray, to meditate, to commune. Increasingly, I noticed that no matter how compelling the sanctuaries' "main features" highlighted in the guidebooks might be, I was drawn first and foremost to the the church's side chapel devoted to Mother Mary.
Over and over, I was humbled and brought to stillness, slowly coming to realize what this beloved figure actually means to me. I, who never had prayed, fell into a state of prayer and devotion beyond my understanding. From Verona to Venice to Florence to Sienna, the mercy and tender, all-encompassing embrace of the Mother spoke quietly to me, the artwork, the murmured prayer, the candles and the flowers brought not only profound comfort to my heart, but also drew me close, had me kneeling, bowing my head and feeling profoundly grateful, strong and safe.
The realm beyond judgment and divisiveness, above critique and opinion, greater than dependence and independence --- this sacred space within and beyond us --- here and here and here, welcoming with open arms and an ever-loving heart --- this realm received me through Mary's grace. My prayers are ongoing. All mothers everywhere shine a light to illuminate my way. Sing Hallelujah in jubilation.