Marian devotion seems strange even to many practicing Catholics, and until a couple of years ago, I too felt uncomfortable with asking the Mother of God to intercede with her Son. What changed my mind was my friendship with Ann, a woman in her seventies whose life bears some external parallels to Mary’s and whose spirit is so filled with light that I often ask her to put in a good word with Jesus for me. And if I can ask her to pray on my behalf, then it surely makes even more sense to ask Mary for help in prayer. So allow me to introduce you to Ann, and then perhaps you will reconsider your own feelings toward the Blessed Virgin.
Both Mary and Ann are members of their societies’ middle classes: the former married a carpenter, a skilled craftsman, while the latter rose to a senior management position in a national telecommunications firm. No doubt these two women expected to lead quiet, respectable lives without major spiritual or earthly challenges. Yet Mary and Ann both stepped outside the bounds of convention early in their adulthood when they each acquired a son under somewhat unusual circumstances: a visitation by the Holy Spirit in one case and private adoption (in the 1960s) in the other.
Like all mothers, they loved their children dearly even when they misbehaved—though Jesus’ staying behind at the temple was admittedly more benign than the youthful hooliganism of Stan, Ann’s son. And Jesus’ rudeness to his mother during the wedding feast at Cana (“Woman, what have I to do with you? My hour has not yet come,” John 2:4) certainly pales in comparison with the pain and embarrassment Stan frequently caused Ann. Surely she often suspected that her child was “out of his mind,” just as Mary and her other relatives feared in Jesus’ case (Mark 3:21).
Not surprisingly, both sons ended up in major trouble with the law. Like Mary, who came to Jesus’ execution (John 19:25-27), Ann has been visiting her child in prison for many years, her “heart ... pierced by a sword” as any mother’s would be. But while scripture tells us nothing about Mary’s life after her son’s crucifixion, I have had the privilege of getting to know a little about Ann’s.
Never Gave Up
Perhaps the most surprising thing is that Ann never gave up on Stan, though he indulged in virtually every form of self-destructive stupidity that life behind bars has to offer. And that steadfastness, that love, that “faith in the things not seen,” slowly transformed her child over the years to the point where he is now a model prisoner entrusted with helping mentally ill inmates in a special unit at his penitentiary. Though far from perfect, Stan really has become a different man, and he gives all the credit to his mother.
But Ann never restricted her love to her own incarcerated child. Over the years she has become one of the anchors of this state’s only prisoners’ rights advocacy groups, and she personally pays the tuition costs for a Vietnamese inmate who is trying to obtain an associate’s degree. Another young convict stays in touch with his daughter through her telephone, for reasons too complicated to explain here. Still other prisoners get money for shoes they could not otherwise afford.
Ann has found room in her heart for all this, even though the rest of her life has been afflicted by the same sorts of troubles any of us must face: raising another child, advancing her career, divorce and re-marriage, a recurrent illness, a gravely sick husband. Yet she is one of the happiest, most content people I know. Whenever I see her or talk to her on the phone, she seems lit with joy and brightens my day just with her presence.
Ann tells me that her motto is Mary’s response to the angel at the annunciation: “May it be done to me according to your word,” or as the Latin Bible put it: “Fiat mihi” (Luke 1:38). Every new trial God sends her, she accepts as a test or challenge to remain true to the Spirit that is Love. And as the years pass, she says it has become easier and easier for her to pass these tests: she simply abandons herself to the divine will, just as Mary did.
In Life of the Beloved, Henri Nouwen described the route to this divine union, the road Ann has taken to reach the peace that transcends human understanding: “The deep truth is that our human suffering need not be an obstacle to the joy and peace we so desire, but can become, instead, the means to it. The great secret of the spiritual life ... is that everything we live, be it gladness or sickness, joy or pain, health or illness, can all be part of the journey toward the full realization of our humanity.”
Ann’s life breathes this truth. And I eagerly ask her to pray for me. And when I pray that Mary intercede on my behalf with her son, it is Ann’s face that I see. God bless them both.
Jens Söring, inmate I.D. 179212, is serving two life sentences for double murder. He is the author of The Way of the Prisoner: Breaking the Chains of Self through Centering Prayer. His new book is, The Convict Christ: What the Gospel Says about Criminal Justice (Orbis Books, 2006). See listing on www.jenssoering.com.