A new way to pray that combines an ancient tool and a modern perspective.
“That's the most sacrilegious thing I’ve ever heard you say, Sarah. Seriously, rethink that,” said my husband. I had called him from the parking lot of the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC. However, I had oh-so-snarkily referred to it as The Church of Mary Who Got Knocked Up by God. Admittedly, this was pre-seminary, during my über-rebellious days while I was still running from anything related to my birth religion.
Growing up Protestant, I had never understood the Mary thing. While there were Bible characters I did gravitate towards—notably Noah and his floating animal hotel—I just couldn’t connect to those in intercessory roles. Why did there need to be someone in the middle of my connection with God? Why a middleman? Or middlewoman in this case?
Yet, soon the Marys in the basilica’s many small side chapels won me over. I realized each was a much-needed feminine expression that had evolved in masculine-dominated religious spaces. Our Mother of Africa. Our Lady of Guadalupe. Our Lady of Brezje. Our Lady of Lebanon. Then Mother of Sorrows. Mother of P …