At this time of year, I am reminded of Kinesa al-Saa’ – the Church of the Clock – the priory church of our Iraqi Dominican brothers in Mosul for over 200 years. My first encounter with this historically complex building was 24 years ago. During a series of visits, I had the privilege of spending many hours there, some in liturgy, others in quiet contemplation.
So this week, as the Christmas holiday approaches and we observe two Marian feasts – the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception on December 8 and the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe on December 12 – I think of Kinesa al-Saa’ and a statue of Mary that once resided in the courtyard.
Before laying eyes on the statue, I had heard several stories from Iraqi Dominicans about Muslim women who obtained the blessing of a child after praying in front of this statue. It was a great joy for them that, in front of this Marian image, their neighbors in old Mosul found such fulfillment through their prayer.
My first visit to the church was in 2001, when the building was undergoing major restoration. The foundations needed to be repaired, and then a complete renovation of the church was necessary. It was a several-year project, almost finished in 2001, but there was still so much to do that there wasn’t much to see, including this famous statue of Mary, kept in a crate somewhere until ‘so that it can be restored in the church.
By the time I took a look at it on my next visit a year later, I had, without realizing it, developed high expectations. During my travels in Iraq, I discovered so much ancient Mesopotamian, Syriac and Chaldean art that what I saw, when I finally saw the famous Mary, forced me to suppress a chuckle, for fear of offending.
Through the slats of a wooden crate I could see the statue which, for all its fame and miraculous power, was, let’s just say, underwhelming. You know this statue. You can worship in a church that has one like this: Mary has blond hair and blue eyes; her blue dress falls to her ankles, and around the globe on which she stands, there is a snake under her feet.
But on the next trip – for Christmas 2003 – this time, Mary was a revelation! The statue, gleaming with new paint, still seemed too European for the context. She was, however, in a magnificent cave that seemed far too beautiful for such pedestrian art. Above his head and under his feet were cruciform mirrors. The one at his feet reflected the sky on the earth; the one above his head, from earth to heaven. I stood there long enough for the effect to be disorienting: Mary’s image, from different angles, was reflected placidly between earth and sky, bouncing back and forth. We no longer knew where to look.
I think that was the goal. This is why Mary was born for us: to bring heaven to earth and earth to heaven. Among her many titles are Mediatrix and Theotokos. Latin and Greek. The first means mediator, the second, Mother of God. These mirrors in the cave can tell us something about everyone.
A mediator is a female mediator who stands between the two parties, who advocates for their cause, and hopes above all, to bring the two parties together as one. We see Mary accomplishing this goal at the wedding at Cana, when – apparently without her son’s knowledge or permission – she tells the waiters who are out of wine, “Do whatever he tells you.” At his mother’s insistence, Jesus floods the wedding feast with an embarrassing amount of wine, announcing God’s coming to Earth, the long-promised fulfillment of the covenant made after a very different type of flood in the Genesis. There, the world seemingly overwhelmed by human sin, the Earth is destroyed by the flood, except for Noah and his company. This time, Jesus is throwing a party. No revenge, just joy. And “wine to gladden their hearts,” as the psalmist says.
I love this story. But maybe I like this one more. Theotokos. mother of God. It took four centuries for the Church to finally accept this title for Mary, formally recognized at the Council of Ephesus in 431. The title recognizes that Mary not only gave birth to the human Jesus, but also to his divine me.
Modern Christians take this for granted. But understanding Jesus as God incarnate, fully human and fully divine was not a foregone conclusion in the early days of the Church. The implications of this are far-reaching and reverberate throughout our theology and our understanding of Jesus as the word of God “born in the flesh” and living among us. This great scandal of the Incarnation is a stumbling block for many, but it is essential to everything we say and believe as Christians.
This is what we are waiting for in these last days of Advent: a time to celebrate, we hope with much joy, and perhaps a little wine, what Mary, mother of God, is supposed to do for us. help us remember: In his son Jesus, God came to earth, making himself what we are so that we could become what he is. So be it.
Sister Beth Murphy, OP, is the communications director for the Dominican Sisters of Springfield.