Day one million of the Global Covid pandemic. It took me three days to post this, because that’s how busy I am. You know, Covid time. Thanks for waiting patiently…
Sunday, April 4, 2021, was way too many days into the seemingly never-ending Corona virus, and it also happened to be Easter. Easter: the day that Jesus was resurrected and went missing from his tomb so that he could “live” in all of eternity. Presumably he went up to heaven, of course. That’s nice–then he could visit his Dad, his Mom and have a lovely Easter brunch. Or, since it was the actual day of his resurrection, maybe “Easter” as we know it wasn’t a thing yet. I don’t know. I wasn’t there…and neither was Jesus because he wasn’t in his tomb. So maybe, just maybe, Jesus was crucified/homesick and he headed upstairs for a lovely family brunch.
Maybe, just maybe, Jesus was crucified and homesick, so he went upstairs for a lovely family brunch.
Feisty Quill
I am in no way trying to be disrespectful here. If you are a Christian, and you believe in the Holy Trinity, I intend no disrespect, honestly. (I can see how you might be offended, though.) These are just things I think about. (Who is that third guy again? Oh, that’s right, the Holy Ghost, which, for the record, I think is baloney. I’m cool with the notion of ghosts; it’s the sexism that bothers me.) Mary didn’t even rate a spot on the team?! That’s ludicrous! She gave birth for Christ’s sake! No, seriously, she gave birth for Christ’s sake. Get it? Also, I don’t actually know who this Holy Ghost guy is. Is it Jesus, in which case it is doubly unfair that Mary isn’t even part of this trinity. Is it God? “Jesus, God, and the Holy Ghost.” I mean, if Jesus is God and God is Jesus (one of the interpretations I’ve heard from all of this religion stuff), then not only is Mary left out altogether, but the big guys take up not just one, not just two, but all three of the sacred Triangle spots…and they definitely get a better office. I mean, poor Virgin Mary. Talk about a glass ceiling!
On Earth 
In Heaven
It’s funny that I don’t know, but I wonder if Mary was even still alive when her son was crucified. I’m sad for her if she had to live through that horror, the worst ever, the pain of losing her child, let alone under such extreme, violent circumstances. Actually, I think maybe she was still alive, which, if she was, is absolutely horrible, terrible. My knowledge of the Bible is definitely lacking. However, for the purpose of this narrative, let’s imagine that, thankfully, she was quite dead before the crucifixion of her son and, of course, she then went to heaven. I like that version better. Besides, it’s better for what’s coming in the story as I’m going to tell it here.
Anyway, back to the very first heavenly brunch with Jesus, God and the Holy Ghost. I guess God is like the big Hollywood director-or maybe a co-producer with the Holy Ghost. I’m not sure. Either way, on this production you’ve got three major players: The Holy Ghost (silent partner?), God as the Producer/Director and Jesus, of course, as the lead actor in the film, the star of the show. As far as I’m concerned, Mary is getting best actress award, of course, because it was all only possible through her body and her giving birth to Jesus…who will influence all of Christianity forever and all of humanity, too. Jesus did her proud.
So, at that point, after her death (real or imagined timeline) by my non-Bible-knowing self, could you picture if Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates would have had the audacity to screen the “Holy Mary, mother of God?” For Pete’s sake (ahem), she was the mother of Jesus, Son of God, and also God himself.
This is so confusing! That must also have meant some serious damn contractions, not to mention the birth itself. (Sorry I mentioned it). Anyway, Mary goes through all of that, lives her life, and eventually, whenever it is, she dies and goes to heaven (of course).
When she gets there, she is greeted by St. Peter, the stern but loving bouncer at the gates of Heaven. It’s just a technicality, but he still has to ask everyone for an ID of sorts. Because there’s no such thing as DMV yet, Peter’s vetting is more a friendly information-seeking questionnaire than an intimidating interrogation. St. Peter asks Mary, in a gentle tone, “Were you a good person? What were your life accomplishments, Mary?” and, because she is a humble servant of God (not to mention the mother of his child), she just says, “Well, you know, once we got out of the manger and into our own modest house, I cooked, I cleaned, I ran a household. Sometimes I worked in the carpentry business with my husband, Joseph, but before, when we were still homeless, I also happened to give birth to the Son of God.” Instead, I would hope that Mary goes straight through those pearly gates, onto that red carpet, without any bouncer trying to slow down her eternal paradise. Sheesh!
Okay, let’s assume he lets her in, she does the angel stuff, waiting for the big day where she will get to see her see her son again.
On the day of Jesus’s resurrection, Mary probably had a big, emotional day herself, as a mother. First, he wasn’t in his tomb! “Oh, my goodness, where could he be?!” They didn’t even have milk cartons back then with the “Have you seen….?” She definitely would have been frantically worrying about where her son was, hoping he was okay. Not knowing her Jesus’s whereabouts with any certainty would have been beyond troubling, terrifying even, especially if she wasn’t confident that Joseph would put up flyers. Joseph was only the Stepdad after all, and he might have felt like it wasn’t his job to make sure that Jesus was okay. Oh, except almost everyone knew Jesus wasn’t okay since it had been a very public crucifixion. Almost everyone would know that Jesus was, in fact, dead. (In those days public crucifixions were probably a little like pay-per-view today. You know, Tyson vs. whoever, that sort of thing. (Does pay-per-view still exist? I’m dating myself.)
Of course, it’s not Joseph’s fault that Jesus was missing from the tomb; that would be ridiculous. Joseph didn’t have anything to do with it. (As an aside, Joseph must have been one pretty cool dude. Very trusting: Virgin mother and all that.) Joseph had probably been a very good father to Jesus, knowing he was the biological son of God and what not. So, there was no need for “Have you seen this child?” milk cartons after all, because everyone could guess where Jesus had gone. (Heaven, if you aren’t sure.)
Given the time and the era, God probably hadn’t even told Mary that Jesus would be coming upstairs soon. Therefore, Mary might be really worried about him, because she’s a Mom and Moms can often get a little–okay, a lot–more anxious than Dads and Stepdads. Even if God had clued her in, reassuring Mary that her precious only (?) child would be home in time for Easter Brunch, she might not be worried about his whereabouts anymore, but there was still plenty to fret over. So, now we have Mary, co-dependently, Mom-style-worried about everything that her first born had gone through that morning: Jesus had to do all that pesky resurrection stuff, getting out of the location where the bad guys had initially placed his body, pushing away the giant rock or whatever had blocked the entry/exit to the tomb and so forth. Then he had such a long trip north.
Then, Mary might have worried whether St. Peter was a jerk at the pearly gates, or if he was only a good-natured bouncer, “just doing my job,” like he had been with her. No matter what, even though Jesus was the one who had to make the big, long journey up for Easter brunch, it was Mary, his mother, who had suffered through all the worry about everything that Jesus had gone through that day.
“Oh, dear!” she worries. “My goodness!” she frets. Mary doesn’t even think to take care of her own needs, of course. Her worry and fretting would probably take their toll, but no spa day for her! She has to get on with it, because she has stuff to do…
I wonder if Mary had to cook the Easter brunch, if there were one. I certainly hope not! (I’m fine with the brunch, just not Mary cooking it). I’m really resenting that Heavenly glass ceiling right about now! I don’t like cooking myself, probably because I’m not very good at it. (It’s normal. Most of us don’t like to do things we aren’t good at. Unfortunately, that fact doesn’t stop some people from dancing, having sex, or trying out for “America’s Got Talent.” Honestly, people, just stop before you make a fool of yourself!) Back in heaven, I hope that Mary gets to just chill on this day of her son’s latest amazing accomplishment: his resurrection.
Of course, if Mary likes to cook, then it’s absolutely fine with me if she is the one who cooked the first Easter brunch for the angels, the Holy Spirit, for God, and for her son. That’s still a pretty big crowd, though.
So Mary is probably a little tired out, and, unless she really, really likes cooking, I hope to God (ahem) she doesn’t have to do all of the cooking for everyone at the first-ever Easter Sunday brunch. I really hope she doesn’t. Finally, I wonder what they are going to eat for brunch. Since they were Jewish, it certainly can’t be ham.
