This morning, while working on another post, I stumbled across an article about Mary, the mother of Jesus, and I was quite disappointed by what I read. Actually, I will go further and say I was disgusted. I’m not even going to provide a link to it.
The thrust of the article was for the author (an implicitly self-described victim of abuse) to empathize with Mary—someone the author saw as a survivor of the abuses and oppression of systemic male dominance and patriarchy. She incorrectly perceived Mary as a woman who agreed to “sexual assault” as a result of her being brought up in a religious and cultural system of oppression, where women were “violated in the name of religion because a man said so” and where they had no choice but to reluctantly submit to any request put forth by male superiors, “even if that male happens to be God.”
What a bunch of garbage!
Is unrighteous dominion a thing? Yes. Does abuse happen? Yes. Are there men who compel and coerce women? Yes. Were men like this around when Mary was alive? Undoubtedly. Was God one of them? No.
In misrepresenting Mary, the author also mischaracterizes God.
While I felt sorry for the author and the apparent trials she had in her life, her attempt to commiserate with Mary was born of both projection and ignorance regarding Mary’s character and the character of God. Both the Bible and the Book of Mormon affirm the idea that Mary was a virgin at the time of Jesus’ birth. Mary would not have whispered “MeToo” in quiet moments, and women who align themselves to movements like that should not suppose that she would have. I know that she would not have.
Years ago, I was asked to choreograph and perform an interpretive dance to a song entitled, “Mary Pulled the Shawl.” The verses of the song are vignettes of Mary’s life—from the Annunciation, through Jesus’ sinless life, to the events surrounding his death and resurrection.
Now, I’m going to let people (especially those who think they know me in real life) in on a little secret: I’m not a dancer—not a formally trained dancer, anyway. I just pretend to be one when I’m on stage. ;) I was very athletic as a child—a tomboy, actually—and that athleticism lent itself to an interest in “more feminine” activities like gymnastics, cheerleading, and dance as I became a teenager.
I was hesitant to take on the assignment of choreographing and performing that routine for several reasons. I felt very inadequate, first of all, because I knew that I didn’t have a complete grasp on all of the technique required to choreograph and perform a dance like that, and I wanted the dance to be good. But, more so, I had a deep desire to make the dramatic portrayal as accurate as possible. I understood that if I wanted the Spirit to testify of the truths communicated in the lyrics of that song, the performance couldn’t be distracting in any way. Rather, it had be as accurate a representation of what actually transpired as possible, and I prayerfully sought revelation about that. I felt a deep connection to Mary. She was a character from the scriptures that I had been introduced to at a young age and re-introduced to often. (I have dark features, and type-casting was alive and well when it came to Primary nativities, so…yeah.) Much like Mary, I had an experience when I was a teenager that completely changed the trajectory of my life. And then, early in my marriage, I lost a child of my own, and there were many lessons learned from that experience that would help me relate to her in choreography sessions just a few years later.
Choreographing that dance was a very sacred experience. Allow me to share some of what I learned about her.
Mary was an unassuming young woman, yet she was filled with faith at Gabriel’s pronouncement. She was someone who was completely (not reluctantly) willing to submit to God’s will and who wasn’t put off by what others might think of her because of it. She was filled with both wonder and gratitude as she experienced her baby’s first movements within her—periodic reminders and confirmations of the angel’s words to her regarding her calling, duty, and blessing to be the mother of the Son of God.
She was thoughtful and pondered on the things of God continually. She readily perceived light and God’s hand in her life. She saw and appreciated Jesus’ growth and development in a way that no one else could. She kept things in her heart.
Her experiences brought her the greatest sorrow, but they also brought her the greatest joy, and because of that, she never lamented or thought of herself as an oppressed victim of a corrupt and domineering male establishment. On the contrary, she saw herself as both the greatest benefactor and beneficiary of a virtuous one.
Her inability to relieve her son’s suffering on the cross was akin to everyone else’s inability to relieve her suffering in giving him life. Each of them had tasks they could only accomplish on their own.
I’ve often heard mischaracterizations of righteous men and women in the scriptures (even Jesus), but this was the first time that I had heard something like this said of Mary, and it’s just not true. Not only did I learn these things about her in those choreography sessions, but the Spirit testified of those things on numerous occasions, again and again, as I portrayed her on stage over the course of many years.
I hope there aren’t many others who view Mary (and God) the way that author does. In actuality, Mary’s life and mission are a testament to God’s goodness and to his willingness to send the best things into our lives.