Whistler’s Mother

Learning to love Mary like Jesus does

Luke 1:26-38 

The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus.

          What if you had the chance to draw or design, conjure up or create the perfect woman: what would she look like for you? Can I tell you what my perfect woman would look like for me? Don’t tell the bishop, okay? She would be about 5’ 6” tall, have long black hair, high cheek bones, a radiant smile, and eyes that dance when she laughs. She would be a woman who is purposeful, passionate and pensive. She would be resourceful and religious; she’d be humble and holy. And she’d also be from India. Do you know who I just described? It’s my own mother. I have a sneaking suspicion that the first woman a man falls in love with is his own mother (in an innocent way, of course), and she thereby becomes the standard by which all subsequent females are measured in that man’s mind. You see, for every man, his mother is always the first person whom he places on the pedestal of the ideal woman.

          Do you know what is one of the most famous pieces of American art known world-wide? It’s actually the portrait of a mother. In 1871, the American-born painter, James Whistler painted his own mother, Anna McNeill Whistler. That portrait has become so popular it is hailed as “an American icon” and as “a Victorian Mona Lisa.” One day, Whistler was complimented on the portrait of his mother, and he answered, “You know how it is; one tries to make one’s Mummy just as nice as he can” (quoted in Fulton Sheen’s, The World’s First Love, p. 16). The first woman Whistler ever saw and then loved was his own mother, so naturally, he would paint her as nice as he could!  Wouldn’t we all do that for our own mommies?

          Today we celebrate the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Many Catholics miss the message of this feast by a mile: they think it’s about Jesus’ conception, but they are wrong. Today is about Mary being conceived in the womb of her mother, St. Anne. By the way, that’s why the four-story convent building next to our church of the Immaculate Conception is called “St. Anne’s.” St. Anne...the Immaculate Conception... Ohhhh, I get it now!

          But let me suggest another way to probe deeper into the meaning of this feast: try to see it as Jesus creating his own mother. Jesus was the only Son in history who had the chance to do that, since he is God. How do you suppose he would have designed her? Would she have any unsightly physical blemishes, or would she suffer from any defects of character, or would she display any moral failings? Not at all. Indeed, he would make her perfect – “immaculate” that is, free from all stain or sin – from the first moment of her existence, from her “conception.” If you had a chance to do that for your mom, would you do it? I know I would! And I know Jesus would, and therefore I know he did.

          That extraordinary out-pouring of saving grace upon Mary at the first moment of her conception – because Jesus did save his mother: he saved her before she sinned, not afterwards, like the rest of us – is the doctrine of the “Immaculate Conception.” This is why the angel Gabriel, upon first greeting Mary in today’s gospel, says with a holy hush: “Hail, full of grace!” In other words, Mary is so full of grace that there is no room in her for sin.  My friends, if you and I – we who are far from pure or perfect – would make our mothers as beautiful and breath-taking as we could, how much more would Jesus do that for his own mother? You see, what Whistler did for his mother with painted canvas, Jesus did for his mother with a perfect conception.

          The real beauty of this feast consists not only in Mary being Jesus’ mother, but also in that she’s our mother, too. How is that possible? Well, by baptism, we are adopted into God’s family and we therefore become Jesus’ little brothers and sisters and so we can call Mary our own mother. That means we should have a living relationship with Mary – we should talk to her, listen to her, learn from her, love like her, just like Jesus did during his earthly life, and as he still continues to do in heaven. Personally, I pray the rosary every day. It’s my way to keep in touch with my spiritual mother. Other people have a medal of Mary they wear, or a statue of Mary at home, or a rosary hanging from the rear-view mirror of their car. Maybe all you can do is say a Hail Mary when you wake-up, and a Hail Mary before you hit the hay. Find your own way to make Mary your mother. Why? Because her Son, Jesus, made his mother (and our mother) as perfect as a person can be, and like very good man, Jesus “made his own mommy as nice as he could.”

          Let me end this homily with how Dante draws to a close his Divine Comedy, namely, with an ode to Mary. Dante does with poetry what Whistler did with paint: they both place a mother on the pedestal of the ideal woman (and don’t miss all the impressive ironies).  Dante writes: “Virgin Mother, daughter of your Son, Humbler and higher than all other creatures, Fixed aim and goal of the eternal plan.” The Florentine poet continues: “You are the one who lifted human nature, To such nobility that its own Maker, Did not disdain to be made of its making.” In other words, when God sat down to make the perfect woman, he made Mary.

          Praised be Jesus Christ!