In the church, I force myself to look up into Mary’s eyes, to study the twisted agony of her mouth. I kiss my baby’s sleeping head, bend down to press my nose to the fragrant scalp of my own son, squeeze the hand of Sam’s older daughter. I am so sorry to see the limp curve of His only child, although I don’t actually believe in God. But standing before this stricken Madonna, surrounded by what I love most in the world, I wonder: Was an entire religion generated from a mother’s most fervent wish that her child not be dead? The twinning of loss and love seems suddenly to explain everything: To devote ourselves properly to one another, we must brave love’s terrifying undertow, which is grief. I am awed, suddenly, by our courage to love each other as recklessly as we do. Awkward and confused, rational and godless – I am all of these things. And yet this moment must be what people mean when they speak of grace.
-Catherine Newman
What a beautiful meditation, Lindsey. I think you are so right. Loving, profoundly, is an act of courage.
Gorgeous. Thanks for highlighting these words for us.
This brought to mind being nineteen and stepping into the St. Peters and seeing, or rather experiencing, Michaelangelo’s Pieta. I’d seen it in art history books, but it magically conveyed the tragic love of a mother for her child and brought me, with my non-Catholic at that time non-faith whatsoever, to tears (which I could scarcely comprehend as a kid ready to climb the dome and find some gelato).
As a parent perhaps I “get it” as I got your post today, so thanks.
In my early twenties, in the Assissi cathedral with my parents, I inexplicably burst into tears that I could not stop or comprehend … it sounds similar and I understand it now as my spirit speaking to me well before I could understand it.
You just consistently take my breath away with your insight. Thank you again.
This is beautiful, Lindsey. It speaks to me – and I know to you. Especially the last two sentences. I exhaled and closed my eyes. A benediction – or maybe invocation; definitely an invitation into… Thank you.
That bittersweet quote makes me feel like I’ve just been punched in the gut. But in a good way.
Thank you for sharing it.
This says so beautifully what I feel daily, at unexpected moments. “To devote ourselves properly to one another, we must brave love’s terrifying undertow, which is grief.”
Catherine Newman never ceases to amaze me. She puts to words my exact feelings in a way I couldn’t even begin to explain. This is my first time reading this passage. Thank you for sharing.
I often wonder why, as an agnostic, I have been moved to tears when singing in church. There is something about the love and devotion that people feel toward their God that inspires and moves me. It is something I feel in other areas of my life, particularly for my children.
So much in this quote.
The courage to love takes everything because with it, we give the power to destroy, take away. And also learn grace.