Remembering the Grieving Mothers

Mary and Joseph are curled up on the floor together with the child Jesus. They are trying to keep their eyes tightly closed. An angel in a long flowing gown appears through the doorway and grabbing Joseph’s arm, she shakes him roughly to wake him up.

 “Get up and take Mary and Jesus and go into Egypt,” the angel announces loudly.

 Soon Mary and Joseph are gathering their belongings. Mary scoops up Jesus, and they disappear through the doorway.

 It’s Epiphany and our children are taking part in a play watched by a group of homeschooling parents. Everyone has a part, including Gemma-Rose, even though she is only two or three years old. She is one of the Holy Innocents.

Callum bends down to speak to Gemma-Rose. “Now all you have to do is pretend to cry when Herod’s soldiers come. OK?”

 Gemma-Rose looks up solemnly and nods her head. She can do that. Easy.

 Now Callum, as Herod, strides across the stage, and in a commanding voice, he orders his soldiers to hunt out every young male child two years and younger, in and around Bethlehem. “Kill them!” he yells.

 Through the doorway, a few young boys appear, trying to look big and tough. They are brandishing their swords, and they shout, trying to deepen their voices in a threatening manner.

 And then there is a soul-piercing scream. It rises in terror, and my blood runs cold. Germma-Rose is petrified. She is trying to get away, but there is nowhere to go. She is under a table, and she pushes herself right into the corner of the room as far away from the ‘soldiers’ as she can. Tears are pouring down her face as she sobs.

 Tears are also pouring down my face. I look around and see tears streaming down Gemma-Rose’s Godmother’s cheeks too. I want to get up and rescue my distraught daughter. Then I notice that Imogen is under the table pulling Gemma-Rose out. When they stand up, Gemma-Rose is clinging to her older sister, her arms tightly around her neck, and she is still sobbing uncontrollably. Imogen hugs her tight as she finishes her last speech. Then she brings her over to me. I enfold Gemma-Rose in my arms and our tears mingle.

 This happened a few years ago. On that day, for the first time, I really reflected on how the Holy Innocents felt as they were taken from their mothers. How terrified they must have been. And how heartless were the soldiers who ignored their screams and killed them.

 The other day we were talking about the Epiphany play. All the children remember it very clearly except for Gemma-Rose. She, thankfully, has forgotten what a traumatic experience it was. We had to tell her the story of the Holy Innocents. When I’d finished telling her how those innocent children lost their lives dying in Jesus’ place, Gemma-Rose asked, “But what about the babies’ mothers? Didn’t they feel very sad when their babies were killed?”

 Of course these mothers must have grieved terribly. What would it be like to stand by and watch your child taken and killed and not be able to do anything to save him? A sword would have gone straight through the heart of every mother.

 A voice was heard in Ramah,

sobbing and loud lamentation;

Rachael weeping for her children,

and she would not be consoled,

since they were no more.

 Today is the Feast of the Holy Innocents. Maybe we could add “and their grieving mothers”. The Holy Innocents are regarded as martyrs; they died not only for Jesus, but in His place. But their mothers also sacrificed so much and sorrowed deeply and could not be consoled.

 Once someone told me, “Sue, you have suffered the death of one of your children. That is the greatest suffering a mother can know.”

 I don’t know if this is true, but I do know that it is an enormous suffering. I think back to the death of Thomas, and I think of the deaths of the Holy Innocents. Yes, all mothers are united when they grieve for their children.

 I watched Thomas die and, like the mothers of the Holy Innocents, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Tears streamed down my face, there was a huge pain in my heart, and I didn’t want to say goodbye and let him go. But Thomas was not screaming in terror as he died. He was safely enfolded in my arms with all his family close by. His death was a gentle one. He quietly slipped away from us and this life on earth and was, I am sure, very quickly enfolded in the welcoming arms of God.

 On this Feast of the Holy Innocents, and their grieving mothers, that is something to be very thankful for.