Narratives of Mary have focused on her motherhood to Jesus, but her virtues as an individual are just as exceptional
The eighth of September for Catholics marks the Nativity of the Virgin Mary. Her birth, nine months after her Immaculate Conception (not to be confused with the Virgin Conception) is marked not only due to her importance and deserved veneration, but also to celebrate that she was born without Original Sin, an honour only bestowed upon Jesus, John the Baptist and herself.
In Islam Mary, or Maryam, is also deemed by some as one of the two people not to have been hurt by the touch of the devil at birth, the other being Jesus. With a whole chapter of the Qur’an entitled Mary and another chapter about her family (The Family of Imran), Mary is often a topic for discussion in interfaith dialogues. Digging deeper than what is often thrown about in these conversations has led me to uncover treasures. Learning about Maryam without the usual discourse surrounding her has helped me connect with her as a woman, irrespective of being a mother.
‘She lives up to her name!’ I recall hearing on numerous occasions about my friend Maryam, whose maternal instincts and inclinations made her a strong and tender mother. The idea of motherhood has always been synonymous with Maryam in my mind. My own grandmother, a Catholic from Ireland, was named Mary, which compounded the idea of her being a gentle, nurturing female figure.
In my own research about women in Islam I have waded through tides of saccharine literature about how Mary, one of the four greatest women in Islam, had added clout by virtue of her being mother to one of our greatest Prophets. To bear a Prophet through miraculous means is awe-inspiring, but, as I am not yet a mother, I never really felt a connection with her portrayal. I always felt closer to the scholastic and feisty Ã’ishah or felt a wholesale connection with Khadījah. The inescapable iconic depictions of Mary made her feel distant and untouchable.
But Maryam is so much more than just (and I use this only for emphasis, because I will never belittle the role of motherhood) a mother. Her portrayal is in fact dynamic, with peaks and troughs of faith. Her own birth, which is often overlooked, was miraculous. In verse 3:31 of the Qur’ãn, it describes how her mother Anne (Hannah), long past child-bearing age, supplicated for a child and swore to devote it to God if He fulfilled her prayer. This is important in understanding Mary, because she was a blessing in her own right, a pious and spiritual woman, spiritually linked to another woman.
This too is reflected in Mary’s own motherhood. In the Qur’ãn and the Qasas al-‘Anbīyã (Stories of the Prophets), the latter a compilation by the late medieval scholar Ibn Kathir, she was established as an independent and spiritually attuned person, who would take care of the temple to which she was devoted and trusted God alone for her provision. I often reflect on this fact and whether I, currently childless, am ready to bring up a decent child based on my own spiritual state. It isn’t the fact that these women were great because they had children, they had children because they were already great.
Muslim belief emphasises that neither Jesus nor Mary were divine, but does believe in the Virgin Conception of Jesus. The Qasas relates a sparky conversation between Mary and Joseph (Yūsuf) the Carpenter, who tries to suggest that there is doubt about her Virgin Conception. She responded with multiple examples of God’s power to create without the need of any assistance, which makes Yūsuf realise the miraculous nature of her circumstances. This intelligence and confidence in her assertions, without being belittled or lambasted because she is a woman, is a lesson for all.
Oddly, it is one of her times of grief that I find I can connect with Mary most. Gripped with the pains of labour she is reported to have said ‘I wish I had been dead and forgotten long before this!’ Required to translate this very verse for my Masters finals, I almost couldn’t believe the poetry and macabre despair in the wording, forcing me to double (even triple) check other translations. Mary, the mother of Jesus, the only woman mentioned in the Qur’ãn by name, one of the most important women to Muslims, the one who some believe is a female prophet, and to whom Jesus’ epithet breaks the convention of being named after one’s father (‘īsa ibn Maryam), was so gripped with pain and despair that she almost couldn’t bear it. It was this phrase that made me acutely aware that she was a woman in pain, scared of the outcome of this birth; far from the depictions that made me feel so estranged from her, she was so incredibly human.
Her humanity and dynamism in the Qur’ãn and in the various stories narrated about her (irrespective of their authenticity), afford her a depth of character that is so often robbed from the narratives of women today. It is notable that very little is documented about her life after her giving birth. This invites us to look at her as an individual in her own right prior to the narrative of Jesus.
Mary’s dynamism ranges from an unerring devotion to and trust in God both before and after giving birth to Jesus, a confidence despite persecution and doubt against her, and an intelligence that manifests in wisdom. But she was also somebody who was vulnerable, tender and scared. Understanding Mary as her own person, one with many sparkling facets clothed in a tangible humanity, establishes why she is one of the greatest women of all time.
Image from: Scene from film adaptation, “Saint Mary” http://www.ifilmtv.com/English/Series/