“Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.” — Toni Morrison
Dear Mary,
Mother, I grow weary this Advent season; this is a weary world longing to rejoice as the carol sings. I miss the somewhat naïve person I was before Donald J. Trump rode down that fateful elevator. While the sin of misogyny always has been a constant in this world, this political era has uncovered a deep and disturbing willingness to practice cruelty out in the open.
Like many women, anger has been a large part of my life for the past 10 years. It is a strong emotion. I often wonder if the strength of love has rage mixed up in it a little. The protective nature of love. The anger of righteousness. I wonder, Mother, if this was an emotion you often experienced as you tried to protect your own child? Or your tender heart that would be pierced by a sword?
An angry woman is perhaps as sinful in the eyes of powerful men as an unfaithful woman. I have been called a “spiritual adulterer” by an angry man about my faith-based pro-choice stance. Aggression and even violence is growing toward women as men see the president say to a female reporter, “Quiet, quiet piggy!” and call Rep. Ilhan Omar, a woman of color, “garbage.” Stones are in hands.
Poster by Libby Kercher
The Republican Party has become the party of men who dominate women, couched in a false spirituality with a leader whose only religion is violence, lust and greed. Jesus weeps.
Where is your rage, Mother?
We have watched heartbreaking videos of mothers being dragged from their cars by ICE and immigration agents, some U.S. citizens. Mothers grabbed up and separated from their families while trying to follow court orders. Mothers profiled for the color of their skin. Mothers weeping after a raid at their child care centers. Mothers huddled up with their children on a concrete floor under aluminum blankets behind fence walls.
The neighborly Mr. Rogers reminded us to look for the helpers in times of disaster and need. When I look, I see women and others standing up for those with less power — blowing whistles of warning, making sandwiches, recording live videos for us all to see injustice. Networks have quickly formed around the country for neighbors to look after each other with communication, resources and, frankly, rage.
The Epstein files have dominated headlines while politicians maneuver to avoid accountability affecting even the common American. The recent government shutdown was aptly labeled the Epstein Shutdown as Speaker of the House Mike Johnson refused to reconvene the House to avoid voting on the bill to release the files. Rep. Majorie Taylor Greene’s resignation is significant as she resigned saying she will not be a “battered woman” in opposing the president on this one issue.
“Birth Stories,” by Julia Goldie Day
Women will not be free without rage as a constant companion. Mother, our pain and rage tell us something is wrong. Rage is “proof of love’s presence,” author Meggan Watterson says, and “glorious rage flares,” when something unholy has taken place.
Throughout art history, Mother, you have been portrayed standing upon a serpent, crushing its head. We are meant to think back to the garden, to the time when the woman Eve foolishly brought sin into the world by eating a forbidden fruit, then giving one to her husband. Thomas Jefferson said of Eve, “Her soul and for an Apple damn’d Mankind.” Mother, the miracle of your blessed virginal purity allowed the Savior to come into the world to redeem the world from sin without being stained from the everyday sexual shame of women. A comedic shame-removal-reversal of sorts.
However, the harm done to women from the wrongheaded blame of the Fall and the so-called curse of original sin passed on through childbirth has not been reversed; it continues through the shame of the hierarchy of patriarchy which is not the way of Jesus who calls us all friends.
You crush the serpent under your heel, yet we remain fooled by its lies. The deceiver tells us women are unholy, our flesh is cursed, our minds are weak, yet our power of blood and Spirit-filled creation cannot be controlled or replicated by men. We can dare to seek and speak words of knowledge with the inheritance of love blazing within our hearts.
This model of love demands for us to listen to the wisdom of women even when it’s painful to do so. One pastor has said, “I give thanks to God that I’m not only a pastor but also a mother. Motherhood has given me lots of experience in telling painful truth to people I love.”
“My Birth,” Frida Kahlo
The artist Frida Kahlo painted “My Birth” in 1932; we see her own head just birthed from between her mother’s opened legs on a bed. Above the bed is a portrait of you, Mother, the Virgin of Sorrows, who is weeping, leading the viewer to surmise the newborn could also be a miscarried child of Kahlo’s and her own body on the bed. This shocking image to our American eyes is indicative of Kahlo’s body of work, addressing issues that Chrisitan iconography has failed to address. The risk and pain of childbirth and the harm done to all women is part of the story of Jesus and cannot be erased or cleaned up from of our collective memory.
For this season of waiting for the birth of the Christ Child, may Kahlo’s painting serve as a critical reminder of the impetus of the rage of women.
May you find your own raging fire this Advent. The fire of love that cannot be controlled, insists on justice and burns bright with hope. Amen.
This is the second in a four-part Advent series “Letters to Mary” by Julia Goldie Day in which the author prayerfully wonders with the mother of Jesus about current events, history, politics and art.
Julia Goldie Day
Julia Goldie Day is an ordained minister within the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and lives in Memphis, Tenn. She is a painter and proud mother to Jasper, Barak and Jillian. Learn more at her website or follow her on socials @JuliaGoldieDay.