Bunnies and Bulbs

April 23, 2024/0 Comments/in Beauty, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Easter, Faith, Resurrection/by Sarah Pedrozo

Bunnies and Bulbs

My parish recently hosted a Day of Reflection for parents and catechists. We had a good turnout of a couple hundred folks, with a keynote speaker in the morning and breakout workshops in the afternoon. I led one of the afternoon workshops, and I started off by posting a big picture on the screen of a cute, furry bunny sitting in emerald green grass, surrounded by a bunch of beautifully decorated Easter eggs.

Turning to the audience, I asked, “Why do we see bunnies at Easter? Turn and talk to each other at your tables for a few minutes.”

There was a hum of conversation as everyone discussed this pretty simple question. When the chatter started to taper off, I asked if anyone wanted to share what they had come up with. A few people raised their hands.

“Bunnies are signs of new life,” one person said.

“Yes, new life,” agreed the next person.

“Bunnies remind us of Jesus’ new life at the resurrection,” another added.

I moved on to the next photo, posting a photo of a beautiful cluster of lilies and daffodils.

“How about this photo?” I asked again. “Why do we see lilies and spring flowers at Easter?”

Once again, I gave everyone an opportunity to chat with their neighbors, before drawing some responses from the group.

“Lilies are signs of new life.”

“They’re like the bunnies. They’re signs of new life.”

And herein lies a problem that I’ve spent a lot of energy trying to address. The answers everyone gave weren’t “wrong;” they are just only halfway there.

Now, to be clear, I found no fault in the people who were there that day. Everyone who attended had been willing to spend their free time, an entire Saturday, up at church in order to hopefully learn a little, grow a bit in their faith and be part of a community. In many cases, they were also catechists at their parishes, leading the Faith Formation classes and trying to inspire and develop the next generation of Catholics. I greatly appreciated their generosity of spirit. In fact, I would even say I found their presence there enormously commendable.

The problem that remains, though, is that we no longer know how to speak what Pope St. John Paul II called “our original language,” or read what St. Thérèse of Lisieux referred to as the “Book of Nature.” What was once as easy and natural as breathing now involves labor and thought. We, the inheritors of original sin, not to mention the Enlightenment, now routinely think in terms of physical and spiritual. What we can see, touch, hear, taste and smell is in one camp and what we cannot see, touch, hear, taste, or smell, but nevertheless believe in, is in another camp. So, bunnies and chicks and flowers that bloom in spring act as pointers towards new life, because, well, they didn’t exist before and now they do. They are new life. But that’s only such a very small part of their story.

We can call these bits of matter Easter symbols, not just Easter pointers, signs or reminders, because that is what they really are. A symbol not only points to something else, but it also incorporates that something else within itself. It makes present what it points to, in its own way. You probably already knew that.

So, if we revisit the earlier question, “Why do we use bunnies at Easter?” we might answer it by saying something like “Because they show us something true and real about what happened at Jesus’ resurrection. They teach us something deep and profound about this ‘new life.’” What might that be?

Bunnies are attracting. They invite us to come in closer. We want to pick them up and snuggle them, maybe put them in a pocket and carry them around. They breathe softly. We love their little noses and long ears. They are simply delightful, in and of themselves, and if they also happen to be on some beautiful, emerald green grass, under a cornflower blue sky, we suddenly feel that the world itself is full of color and inspiration and possibility; that there just might very well exist a place, somewhere, where bunnies can live without fear of being attacked by something big with sharp teeth. And if that might be the case for bunnies, might it not also be the case for people? The idea that there might be a place or a way where we can live in peace, free from fear, in the midst of creation, is at the very heart of Jesus’ resurrection. Our faith tells us that not only is that possible in the next life, but that Jesus’ physically resurrected (not just reanimated or ghostly) human body, assures us that the beginning of this place has begun here, now, on this earth.

Just like bunnies are delightful, in and of themselves, so, too, is the new life Jesus offers us, because the new life IS Jesus, who is, in and of himself, attracting and inviting.

Closeup of some lovely white Easter lilies.

We can try the same exercise with lilies. What do they teach us about Jesus’ resurrection? If we think of the life cycle of a lily, we know that it spends most of its life in a very unimpressive state, as a funny looking ovalish, brownish bulb, stuck down in the earth, out of sight. For most of its life, a bulb doesn’t look like anything is going on at all. But then, suddenly, something happens. It starts to put out feelers and sends out small shoots. Those shoots eventually break through the surface and keep on growing. Finally, each bulb erupts into a truly spectacular flower, a blossom so magnificent that we have to stop and stare at it. We have to drink it in, memorize it and photograph it. Bulbs teach us that just because we can’t see the inner life of grace working doesn’t mean that it is not there. It just hasn’t matured yet. Bulbs remind us of our true end, as persons with resurrected bodies, of blossoming into those fantastic flowers from a simple little brown bulb. Again, not only do we anticipate this in the next life, but we know that some of the saints have moved into this type of state while they were on earth. Jesus’ bursting forth from his tomb, trampling over death, is like the remarkable flower that bursts forth from the tomb of the bulb. Like the flowers from bulbs, the resurrection is not a small, meager, easily overlooked thing. Instead, it is huge and unbelievably magnificent.

All of the symbols we use throughout Easter, as well as through the year, point to a deeper meaning especially when they are connected to a liturgical season. This, ultimately, is what Scripture is proclaiming when it says “The heavens declare the glory of God; the firmament proclaims the works of his hands. Day unto day pours forth speech, night unto night whispers knowledge,” (Psalm 19:2-3) all without speech, words or voices.

So let me ask you the same question: What do bunnies, eggs, chicks and lilies teach you about the new life we celebrate at Easter? And more importantly, how will the new life of the resurrection burst forth in your own life, here, now, in this season of Easter 2024?

Images from iStock

The Poetry and Praise of Nature

April 25, 2023/1 Comment/in Beauty, Easter, Inspirational, Poetry, Praise, Prayer/by Sarah Pedrozo

The Poetry and Praise of Nature

Here we are in the middle of Eastertide. One of the things I have always loved about the Easter season is that it seems as though all of nature is celebrating the Resurrection of Christ along with us. In my part of the world, Central Texas, this is the time for our annual display of wildflowers, a riot of colors that starts with deep blue bluebonnets, paired with light pink evening primroses that eventually fade into red, yellow and brown sunflowers as the weeks progress and the temperature warms up.

I was on a morning walk last week and stopped to take a photo of a patch of wildflowers. I was happy to see that there were others who were also pleased to see the wildflowers. Darting in and out of the blooms were butterflies and bees, and overhead birds were busy building nests while squirrels waved their bushy tails at me, peering from behind branches, daring me to notice them. The scene reminded me of a passage from one of my favorite children’s books, The Alligator and his Uncle Tooth, by Geoffrey Hayes. This book tells the tale of a small alligator, named Corduroy, who loved to wander through the hills surrounding his home. He especially loved to meander through the pine forest, always “standing strong and silent through every season. When the trees were hung with snow or covered by fog or moved by wind, Corduroy watched them, and it was like seeing poetry.”

Later in the story Corduroy goes to live with his Auntie Hick, who runs a small stationery shop in a village by the seaside. The little alligator is overwhelmed at his first glimpse of the mighty sea.

“The sea roared as it swept onto the beach, sending up showers of salty mist that tingled Corduroy’s nose. He breathed in the ocean smell. How untamed it was! How alive!

“As he sat there watching it, the sea foam rolling on the waves looked like delicate clouds; and the clouds in the sky looked like flower blossoms; and the sky moved like a song. ‘Poetry!’ thought Corduroy.”

Ah, poetry. That literary form with the ability to teach, communicate and elevate through images and a minimum of syllables, to strip away the familiar and help us see it once again with fresh, new eyes. As I stood in the wildflower patch that morning, watching all the pollinators busy at their work, I felt as though I were watching a living embodiment of poetry, just like Corduroy.

Feeling the warm sun, knowing winter was finally slipping away for another year, I felt the promise of Easter joy rising again; the newness, the light, the victory, the hope. I thought “Someone should write something.” Then I thought “I bet someone already has.”

Upon returning home I opened my Bible and went to the Psalms, that book of precious poetry. Sure enough, I found Psalm 8:

O Lord, our Sovereign,

How majestic is your name in all the earth.

You have set your glory above the heavens.

Out of the mouths of babes and infants

You have founded a bulwark because of your foes,

To silence the enemy and the avenger.

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,

The moon and the stars that you have established;

What are human beings that you are mindful of them,

Mortals that you care for them?

Yet you have made them a little lower than God,

And crowned them with glory and honor.

You have given them dominion over the works of your hands;

You have put all things under their feet,

All sheep and oxen

And also the beasts of the field,

The birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,

Whatever passes along the paths of the sea.

O Lord, our Sovereign,

How majestic is your name in all the earth!

(NRSV Bible, Psalm 8)

It is such a tremendous truth that all of nature worships God, just by doing what it was created to do. From the orange winged monarch butterfly to the mighty oak tree to the towering, silent mountains, all of creation offers its praise. May you, too, find yourself amid ample opportunities of living praise – and poetry – this Easter season!

Hope and Resilience

April 1, 2023/0 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Devotionals, Easter, Eastern Orthodox, Iconography, Inspirational, Lent, Pilgrimage, Sacred Art and Architecture/by Margaret Zacharias

Hope and Resilience

Only Divine Providence could have woven such a tale. I can just offer you a sketchy map, and a few further clues. But we’re all a part of it. You’ll find your way.

This story opens in the mid-1800’s, with an English nobleman who collected American tree specimens to forest his Irish estate across the Atlantic Ocean. It encounters White Russians fleeing persecution following the communist revolution in 1917. It continues into the 1920’s, with an ambitious Irish diplomatic attaché in Paris; and a devastating family tragedy in Ireland.

Our tale emerged again in a small Swiss town in 1957, when a Protestant housewife received an indelible message in prayer from an Eastern Orthodox Catholic Saint.

But perhaps the most interesting plot twist occurred in the late 1940’s or early 1950’s, when a group of Irish schoolboys discovered dusty 15th-century religious icons while searching for treasure in a 19th-century reproduction-Gothic castle.

For me, it began on a recent March morning when a massive herd of glossy cattle crossed the road in front of our tour bus for more than fifteen minutes on their way to pasture. These cows dwell at Glenstal Abbey near Murroe, County Limerick, in the ancient Munster region of Ireland. (1)

Assisted by their dedicated local lay-oblate community, the Benedictine monks at Glenstal administer a substantial farm; a nationally-accredited Roman Catholic boarding school; and a conference center that offers retreats, spiritual consultations, and pilgrimages to individuals and groups of different faiths from around the world. A major inspiration for many pilgrimages to Glenstal Abbey is its unique collection of rare Eastern Orthodox prayer icons. These icons are displayed in a custom-built underground chapel beneath the main church.

In the Eastern Orthodox faith tradition, iconography is regarded as a particular kind of worship and a specific religious vocation. Although drawing and painting are involved, icons are always referred to as “written,” not made. The most important stages in their writing are the trained religious artists’ disciplines, fasting and prayer. Orthodox believers do not “look at” their icons; they present themselves before them, so that the saints can communicate with human beings on earth through the windows of their eyes.

The White Russians eventually found their way to Paris, France. Many families at that time were trapped in an economic depression that gripped continental Europe as well as North America. Too often, they were forced to part with their most precious possessions in order to support their families. For the Russian émigrés, that meant selling their family icons.

It seems that a diplomatic attaché for the Irish government, stationed in Paris, was happy to assist with the disposition of religious art works. The monks at Glenstal Abbey believe that this is how their Russian Orthodox icons were transferred to Roman Catholic Ireland.

At some point the icons landed at the castle forested with North American trees, once owned by the Barrington family. When their daughter was killed by Irish freedom fighters in 1921, the family returned to England. A local priest, Monsignor James Ryan, purchased Glenstal Castle in 1926 and donated it to the Benedictine Order, to found an abbey and school in the Archdiocese of Cashel. Glenstal Priory was inaugurated in January of 1928; the abbey boys’ school was established four years later in 1932. (2)

But following the turmoil of World War II, by the early 1950’s the Orthodox icons’ presence at Glenstal Abbey had been almost forgotten. Inquisitive schoolboys, digging through nooks and crannies, apparently came upon them stored somewhere in the castle. The Russian Orthodox saints traveled across a Roman Catholic campus in children’s hands, to decorate dorm room walls or to lie hidden under beds as secret prayer talismans.

Back on the continent, in 1957 the small-town wife of a Reformed Church pastor began to see saints and angels, including Mother Mary, beckoning to her from Roman Catholic churches in central Switzerland. Eventually, Joa Bolendas entered these churches to pray.

According to one of Bolendas’ accounts, St. Nicholas appeared to her and said, “This is the testimony of an early Saint of the Russian Orthodox Church.” In their encounters, St. Nicholas showed her images of icons that he said were “missing.” He told her that these icons were important for the future of the world and must be found. St. Nicholas thought that the icons he sought were somewhere in Ireland.

Bolendas’ nephew by marriage, John Hill, a graduate of Glenstal Abbey School, was in residence at that time in the C. G. Jung Institute of Zurich. Acting as a family member and not in his professional capacity, John began to accompany his wife’s aunt to church. He observed her in ecstatic prayer (3).

Joa Bolendas was described by all who knew her as “a strong woman,” and “a thoroughly practical person.” John himself watched her come out of prayer visions and briskly proceed to a nearby shop. There she would haggle with the butcher for his best cut of meat at the lowest price, to cook for her family’s dinner. John Hill deemed her fully grounded in reality.

He had a vague recollection of “those icons we used to play with at Glenstal as boys.” The matter seemed worthy of investigation. John called his old friend Mark Patrick Hederman, a monk, writer, teacher and administrator for the same abbey school where they both grew up.

In 1976, John and his wife Anne-Marie, with a photographer selected by Joa Bolendas, traveled back to Glenstal Abbey to examine whatever icons they might be able to find there.

Photographs of the icons they located in a thorough search of abbey and school were shown to Joa after they returned to Switzerland. She confirmed them as the same images St. Nicholas had revealed to her in visions. The saint then requested through Joa that the Benedictine brothers at Glenstal “build a chapel at their abbey to preserve them.”

All of the saints and angels who spoke with Joa over many years conveyed the same essential message. Whether explicitly or implicitly, the thrust of these revelations was always the importance of unity among mankind. If the chapel was built at Glenstal, St. Nicholas told her, “Unity will follow for Germany and Ireland.”

When Brother Patrick first presented a multi-million-dollar bid he’d received from a local contractor, the proposal to build a free-standing icon chapel on the abbey grounds was firmly rejected by the Glenstal monastic community.

Over time, however, the Benedictine brothers eventually developed a consensus. If Brother Patrick could find a way to build this chapel in the unused dirt cellar under the abbey church, they might be willing to help support it.

A third Glenstal Abbey School classmate, Jeremy Williams, had grown up to become one of Ireland’s leading architects. Patrick called Jeremy to the abbey for a consult. The aesthetic they both envisioned was a smaller version of the chapel at St. Sophia Church in Istanbul.

Their design was ultimately built in Glenstal Abbey’s church cellar to house the Russian icons, as well as an equally-precious donated collection of Greek Orthodox icons.

Their cement contractor in Cologne, Germany, who ground real stone for use in the colored-concrete chapel floor, provided the abbey with hefty discounts. In return the monastic community granted permission for the contractor to use an image of the finished chapel in promotional materials.

Before construction even began, while the abbey team was still examining the underground structure, a man no one had ever seen before walked in.

He said, “I know what you’re doing here! I know how to do it! No one else must touch it!”

With the monks’ permission, he spent the night alone, “inside the black box,” for inspiration. That ‘stranger’ turned out to be a local man, the brilliant and idiosyncratic Irish artist James Scanlon, who created luminous stained-glass medallions to anchor and illuminate a portion of the chapel ceiling vault.

Even the cows offered up their own fair share of the chapel costs, in cream and butter. Dairy sales from the farm help to support all of the spiritual and educational programs offered at Glenstal Abbey.

The finished icon chapel opened on April 10, 1988, with ancient musical tones and choral chants. These were researched as well as performed by Irish composer Michael O’Sullivan, with Rev. Nóirín Ní Riain, Ph.D. as liturgical cantor. (4)

Just nineteen months later, on November 9, 1989, the Berlin wall that had divided Germany for more than five decades fell to the ground. On 10 April, 1998, the tenth anniversary of the chapel’s consecration, Good Friday Agreements brought peace to Northern Ireland, putting an end to physical interreligious violence there.

This evidence is anecdotal, of course. Private devotions are treated as optional, not obligatory, in our Roman Catholic church. Still, the discerning monks of Glenstal Abbey visit their icon chapel every day, at the same time, to pray for healing in our world. This devotion is performed in addition to their traditional Benedictine charism, ora et labora, a daily rhythm of work and prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours.

If nothing else, the length and breadth of this history illustrate that dark times of many different kinds have always besieged humanity. The haunting eyes of early saints in the Glenstal Abbey chapel continue to regard contemporary pilgrims with eternal compassion.

Glenstal Abbey will celebrate the icon chapel’s 35th anniversary on April 10, 2023.

Should you, yourself, feel called to reflect on how a group of 1950’s Irish schoolboys ‘just happened’ to be in the right places, at the right times, prepared with the exact adult skills to provide every resource required to incarnate this chapel … Please join in prayers for unity and peace on Easter Monday.

“Drive away the darkness that surrounds us,

Shed onto us the mantle of your light.

Help us to know your will,

And give us the courage to do it.” (5)

Amen.

Original Russian Icon “The Healing Christ” in the Glenstal Abbey Icon Chapel Photo by Margaret Zacharias, taken with permission from Don Mark Patrick Hederman

Featured Image: Collection of Original Eastern Orthodox Icons in the Glenstal Abbey Chapel Photo by Margaret Zacharias, taken with permission from Don Mark Patrick Hederman The “Angel of Silence” can be seen at lower right.

Notes:

https://glenstal.com/abbey/
A more detailed history of Glenstal Abbey, and exposition about the educational philosophy of the secondary-level boy’s school, may be found in former Headmaster Mark Patrick Hederman’s book:

The Boy in the Bubble: Education as Personal Relationship

https://www.amazon.com/Boy-Bubble-Education-Personal-Relationship/dp/1847304052/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1680133263&sr=8-1

The full story of Joa Bolendas’ visionary prayer experiences may be found in her books:

So That You May Be One

https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Joa+Bolendas+That+You+Be+One&crid=1RFFTDTLMZBLJ&sprefix=joa+bolendas+that+you+be+one%2Caps%2C155&ref=nb_sb_noss

Alive in God’s World

https://www.amazon.com/Alive-Gods-World-Described-Bolendas/dp/097010975X/ref=sr_1_1?crid=Q8W6BZWU4KAG&keywords=Joa+Bolendas+Alive+In+God%27s+World&qid=1679641031&sprefix=joa+bolendas+alive+in+god%27s+world%2Caps%2C144&sr=8-1.

Recordings of the early Christian music that accompanied the consecration of Glenstal Abbey’s icon chapel may be found here:

Vox De Nube

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09S3F6YQ1/ref=sr_1_2?crid=3RR326YJQLC6A&keywords=vox+di+nube&qid=1679728636&sprefix=vox+de+nube%2Caps%2C142&sr=8-2

One prayer given in a dream to Don Mark Patrick Hederman, now Abbot emeritus of Glenstal Abbey.

This article was prepared with help and permission from Don Mark Patrick Hederman and John Hill.

Any errors of fact or interpretation are the sole responsibility of the author.

When Jesus Rose from the Dead where was the Blessed Mother? Ask Pope St. John Paul II

May 7, 2019/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Easter, Resurrection/by Larry Peterson

When Easter morning arrived, someone was missing. That someone is the very linchpin of the salvation story. That someone is the Blessed Virgin Mary. She is nowhere to be seen or heard. Where was she?

We will hear from the Gospel of John 20:1-9 how

Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and saw the stone removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciples He loved and told them, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we do not know where they have put Him.”

So where was Our Lady when Jesus rose from the dead? She was His mother. She was nearby throughout the Passion and watched Him carry His cross. She watched as they drove the nails through His hands and His feet. She stood agonizingly and helplessly by as He was raised on the cross. For three hours she stood there watching every drop of blood leave her boy’s body. She was at the foot of the cross when He died.

The following week, on the Second Sunday of Easter ( Divine Mercy Sunday), the Gospel is once again from John, this time 20: 19-31. This is when, with the doors locked, Jesus appears to all of them (except “doubting” Thomas). Once again, the Mother of our Savior is never mentioned. Why is that?

No mom should ever have to witness such cruelty heaped upon her own child. Who could have loved Him more than she? Doesn’t it seem absolutely unquestionable that the first person who Jesus appeared to after He rose was His Mother? Yet there is not a single mention of the Blessed Virgin in the Resurrection narratives.

In the year 431 A.D, the Council of Ephesus affirmed the Dogma of the Divine Maternity. This explains to us that the greatness and majesty that was bestowed on Our Lady was wrapped into a bundle of pure Love from God. He was the Father of her child. She was the mom. Every drop of Jesus’s DNA comes from His mom. The Father and Son are God. Jesus Christ is truly Human and Divine, separate yet one. Yet she is not mentioned in the Resurrection Gospel readings.

From the CCC 496: Mary’s Virginity:

From the first formulations of her faith, the Church has confessed that Jesus was conceived solely by the power of the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Virgin Mary, affirming also the corporeal aspect of this event: Jesus was conceived “by the Holy Spirit without human seed.” The Fathers see in the virginal conception the sign that it truly was the Son of God who came in a humanity like our own …

Back to the question: Where was our Blessed Mother, the Mother of the Risen Christ, her only Child, on Easter Sunday? We can turn this question over to none other than St. John Paul II. The Holy Father, speaking from Vatican City on May 21, 1997, said:

The unique and special character of the presence of the Virgin at Calvary and her perfect union with the Son in his suffering on the Cross seem to postulate a very particular participation on her part in the mystery of the Resurrection.

The Blessed Virgin, who was present at Calvary and at the Cenacle,

was probably a privileged witness to the Resurrection of Christ, in this way completing her participation in all the essential moments of the paschal mystery. Embracing the risen Jesus, Mary is, in addition, a sign and an anticipation of humanity, which hopes to reach its fulfillment through the resurrection of the dead. (emphasis mine)

If St. John Paul II said she was there, she was there. AMEN.

Did Jesus Appear to His Mom after He Rose from the Dead? The Gospels never mention it.

April 3, 2018/2 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Easter, Faith/by Larry Peterson

Easter was two days ago, and on that glorious morning we heard from the Gospel of John.

“Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and saw the stone removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciples He loved and told them, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb and we do not know where they have put Him.” (John 20:1-9)

The gospel read at the Easter Vigil is from Mark 16: 1-7. In this gospel, Mary Magdalene and Salome have gone to the tomb to anoint Him. This is when the angel appears to them, and tells them He has risen and to go and tell His disciples.

The following week, on the Second Sunday of Easter ( Divine Mercy Sunday), the gospel is once again from John, this time John 20:19-31. This is when, with the doors locked, Jesus appears to all of them (except “doubting” Thomas). Interestingly, someone is never mentioned in any of these gospel readings. That someone is Jesus’s mom, the Blessed Virgin Mary.

So where was she when Jesus rose from the dead? She was His mother. She was nearby throughout the Passion and watched Him carry His cross. She watched as they drove the nails through His hands and his feet. She stood agonizingly and helplessly by as He was raised on the cross. For three hours she stood there watching every drop of blood leave her boy’s body. She was at the foot of the cross when He died.

No mom should ever have to witness such cruelty heaped upon her own child. Who could have loved him more than she? Doesn’t it seem absolutely unquestionable that the first person who Jesus appeared to after He rose was His Mother? Yet there is not a single mention of the Blessed Virgin in the Resurrection narratives.

In 1931, Pope Pius XI, rooted in findings from the Council of Ephesus in 431, instituted the Feast of the Divine Maternity. Although somewhat obscured by the dogmatic teaching of Mary’s Perpetual Virginity, it is tied tightly to it. The Divine Maternity explains to us that the greatness and majesty that was bestowed on Our Lady was wrapped into a bundle of pure Love from God. For He was the Father of her child. She was the mom. Every drop of Jesus’s DNA comes from His mom. The Father and Son are God. Jesus Christ is truly Human and Divine, separate yet one.

From the Catechism 496: Mary’s Virginity:

From the first formulations of her faith, the Church has confessed that Jesus was conceived solely by the power of the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Virgin Mary, affirming also the corporeal aspect of this event: Jesus was conceived “by the Holy Spirit without human seed.” The Fathers see in the virginal conception the sign that it truly was the Son of God who came in a humanity like our own …

Back to the Resurrection. As a simple man of faith, I have to believe that Jesus immediately went to see His mom upon leaving the tomb where he was, moments earlier, dead. I shall end this with the following:

VATICAN CITY, MAY 21, 1997 (VIS) –The Holy Father focused the catechesis of today’s general audience in St. Peter’s Square. Pope John Paul II said, “The unique and special nature of the presence of the Virgin at Calvary,” added the Pope, “and her perfect union with the Son in his suffering on the Cross, seem to postulate a very particular participation on her part in the mystery of the Resurrection.”

The Blessed Virgin, who was present at Calvary and at the Cenacle, “was probably also a privileged witness to the Resurrection of Christ, in this way completing her participation in all the essential moments of the paschal mystery. Embracing the risen Jesus, Mary is, in addition, a sign and anticipation of humanity, which hopes to reach its fulfillment in the resurrection of the dead.”

If St. John Paul II says it must be so, that is good enough for me.