When Trauma becomes Sacred, not Selfish
I came across a photograph I took of a sculpture of Jesus and Mary while I was in Italy a couple of years ago. It was a depiction of Jesus and Mary, I had seen often in Catholic iconography but for whatever reason this time, it hit me hard.
In the sculpture, Our Lady holds Jesus’s crucified body in her arms. His entire body is sprawled across Our Lady’s lap. Our Lady looks up in sadness, bearing the weight of his suffering. The pain in her heart is tangible. There’s no denying the gravity of her sorrow.
When I saw this image again, it reminded me that Our Lady, the Mother of Jesus, experienced trauma.
I had never really thought about it like this until I started diving deeper into Mary’s life and connecting it to my own work as a Trauma therapist.
I can imagine Mary coming into my office. Her eyes are puffy and red. She looks down, afraid to lock eyes with me out of fear that her tears will overflow and she will lose control. I tell her, “Mary, what brings you to therapy today?” She begins to utter words but her voice cracks. Tears begin to flow down. “Mary, it’s okay. Take your time.” She nods her head. Then takes a deep breath and tries to regain her strength. She tries again. “I am here today because my only son has been killed.” My own eyes begin to well up. “Mary, I am so sorry that you lost your son. I can only imagine the pain you must be in right now.” She nods her head in agreement and then buries her head to the palms of her hands and breaks out in a loud wail. I proceed to sit closer to Mary and offer a box of tissue. Her pain is palpable in the room. I feel an ache in my own heart. She proceeds to tell me about her son’s crucifixion and what it was like to be there and witness His suffering...
Can you imagine this with me? Do you feel the pain in your own heart?
The truth is Mary is a real woman. She is a real woman who experienced tremendous pain and trauma, and I think it’s important to remember that. She understands human suffering. She can relate to the heaviness that accompanies it; the powerlessness, the loneliness, and the fear. Mary is the woman with a “sword that pierced her heart.” (Lule 2:35 )
So what makes Mary able to experience these traumas with her faith, peace, and joy intact?
Well, I think the answer can be found in Scripture and in her apparitions.
Mary loves well.
Mary constantly offers herself to others. She does not clench unto her sorrow but empties it before the Lord, again, again, and again. Not for her own sake or for her own glory, healing, or sanctification, but for those whom she loves. Mary is completely selfless.
When I think about my own traumatic experiences and what has kept me from really healing, it is the opposite of Mary. It’s a life full of self-absorption. It’s a life without love.
Instead of turning towards God, I turned away from God and turned inward. The more entrenched in myself I got, all I could think about was:
What or who will make me feel better? When will I feel like myself again? How will I ever get over this?
Do you hear the common denominator in all those questions? ME, myself, and I.
Love is willing the good of the other. Love is not self-seeking (1 Corinthians 13:5)
I have a lot of compassion towards myself now because knowing what I know about trauma, my selfishness makes sense. Our brains are beautifully and divinely created and primed for our survival. When we go through trauma, the brain takes over to protect us. Unfortunately, this can look like life on the defense and a life wary of further hurt and pain. In other words, a life hyperfocused on the self.
This is how trauma and sin can go hand in hand. Trauma can weaken our intellect and it can open the door to evil spirits.
Biologically, it makes it difficult to use the part of the brain responsible for rational thinking, and spiritually, it makes it difficult to act in ways that are aligned with the commands, God has written on our hearts. In the end, it often leaves us entrenched in emotion and lost in an internal crisis.
When we are guided by our emotions and deeply lost in our own selves, it becomes difficult to see God, ourselves, and others clearly.
But this isn’t of God nor what God wants for us.
God is the kind of God who helped Mary to say yes in the midst of her unknowing and fear. God is the kind of God who helped Mary to experience a lot of pain and agony, with faith. God is the kind of God who helped Mary to be a “handmaid” so she can offer herself to others, instead of turning inward.
And this same God who enlivens Mary and transforms her sorrow enlivens and transforms us.
Just like Our Lady we can experience the hard stuff. We can bear witness to whatever pain we are experiencing, and hold it tenderly. We can look at whatever struggle lies before us and not be afraid to offer our “FIAT.”
Going back to the image of Mary with her crucified Son, one of the most radical things we can do in the midst of our suffering is to not try to fix it, change it, or eradicate it, rather tenderly embrace it and reach out to touch the suffering of another.
This is what Mary did at the foot of the Cross. She allowed her only son to be crucified. No fixing, no changing, no eradicating, but complete and tender embracing. She held her Son with her entire being and allowed herself to feel every ounce of pain He endured.
This is love. This is healing work. This is how trauma becomes sacred, not selfish.