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I have told the story
many times, but it is one of those stories that needs re-telling. Like
grace, like mercy, like love: it needs to be shared over and over.
It happened one lost afternoon long ago when I was driving in my car, just
going on auto-pilot, because my mind was full of worries. I saw a church a
block away and for some reason I pulled in. I needed to pray. I walked in,
thankful that their doors were not locked, and immediately saw a statue of
Mary, standing serenely before a flickering bank of votive candles. In the
silence of the winter day, I knelt down before her, something I had never
done before. I was not even sure what to say or how to address my prayer.
I just started talking to her, asking her to help me.
And she did. And she has. And she will never be far from my heart or my
devotion.
Mary is not the Mother Of Our Tribe, our human tribe, because she is some
aloof figure from an artificial piety, set apart by myth and the imagined
need for ritual purity. No, she is holy because she is one of us. She is
our common mother, our everyday mother. She is a living person who has
gone before us, a woman as human as you or I, who found a well of faith
deeper and more life-giving than any we will ever discover on our own. She
is grace. She is mercy. She is love: a gift to us from God, a healing
presence in every culture and every time, speaking all of our languages,
even if that language is silence.
Therefore, I am very grateful I am part of this visual celebration of Mary
by so many talented artists. Their vision speaks more eloquently than my
words, but together, we are telling and re-telling the story — the story of
Mary, Mother Of Our Tribe.
The Rt.
Rev. Steven Charleston, Choctaw
Author,
Red Moon Publications
Curator |
