Mothers Milk

              

  Some years back, a couple of the kids and I went to a family camp that was out on the lake.  It was a wonderful time to get away and spend time with friends both old and new. We thoroughly enjoyed our time together but I have to say, there was one moment when we were all gathered together praying that I became downright red in the face embarrassed. It has taken another week of contemplating to figure out why and put all of my thoughts together. What, you may ask, could have been so bad when all are gathered together, young and old that could set me off kilter? Simply the word ‘breasts’.  Really? Seriously, have I not matured enough to say THAT? And, I must say that this was all in the context of praying a scriptural rosary together, which is a very beautiful, honorable thing to do. I was reading for the Blessed Virgin Mary and the reading was from the Song of Solomon. Beautiful, intimate language of our Lord’s love for us and oh how difficult when I had to read about the aroma rising from the beloveds breasts! Well, after pondering this and other thoughts that have been floating around my brain, I think I can put an end to my silliness and grow up a bit.

                In my childhood years, I don’t recall ever learning the proper names of body parts. They were all deemed to be very naughty to say. I wasn’t allowed to say ‘butt’, even though it was short for buttocks.  ‘Poo’ was not allowed and for the longest time I thought that dosomemore was the proper name (potty training Mom would say, Honey, do you have to ‘do some more’?). Goodness, I was even embarrassed to say ‘Winnie the Pooh’! And now for the biggy…we couldn’t call our female anatomy on the northern half breasts…they were (oh I hate to say this!) ‘bumba bumbas! Ug! That is so backwards! Bumba’s should (and does) make me red with shame! I don’t even know where that originated from. Probably something we kids came up with as we giggled behind our fingertips.  So, what I’m getting at is that we, or at least I, have grown up being ashamed of the beauty of how God created women so much so that referring to her anatomy with proper language was something I could not do. I think we all know that women have been objectified over the past 50 years but do we realize how much our language has contributed to that? And, why am I even spending my time writing about all of this? Why is it so important and how am I going to tie this in to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass because Yes, that is where my thoughts are leading me to. Well , stick with me and we’ll see if I can pull this all together.

                Several weeks ago while at Mass I saw things in a way I never had before.  I thought how God made man from the dust of the earth, and how woman was taken from his side after he had been put into a deep sleep. When Adam awoke, he exclaimed that she, Eve, was flesh of his flesh. Beautiful. He knew they were of the same flesh and I am sure he knew her scent, something that contraception in our time has taken away from us…our scent…a heavenly aroma from Eve’s breasts.  AND, there was no shame in that. But alas, Adam and Eve’s sin has been the fate of us all, but in God’s infinite goodness and mercy, he gives us a promise. A promise in a new Adam, Jesus, and a new Eve, Mary.

                From the new Eve, Mary, we are given our savior. In Her yes, Jesus is brought forth and they live in constancy in their Yes.  As Jesus is lifted up on the cross and dies, and the lance is thrust into His precious side, it is as if He, the new Adam, is put into a sleep, and from His side the Church is born and on the third day, He rises, and He knows His sheep, the Bride of Christ. He knows Her, He protects Her, and He nourishes Her. Flesh of His flesh, He feeds the Church for all Eternity, and this occurs every day, from the rising of the sun in the east to its setting in the west.  In the Mass, we bring our gifts, fruits of the earth, from the dust of the earth! God wants our participation in a way that is so intimate that only the marriage union can compare, and He gives us all that we need! The bread, the wine, elements from the earth that He provides, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, life is breathed into these simple gifts, for Him, through Him, in Him to become again the New Adam. And from his side, spills forth all that we need to feed us. As we approach Holy Communion, as we the bride pulsate forward, as the human heart circulates the blood and rejuvinates, so we too are rejuvenated. But this is not all. No, not by a long shot.

                This line from a Moody Blues song has always resonated with me: “New mother picks up and suckles her son”. Beautiful.  What is more beautiful than a new mother, breast feeding her child? Mother Church feeding Her children, Her body that the Father has entrusted to her, as He did with himself incarnate.  A mother knows her children by scent. She can be blindfolded and sniff her kids out. But something far more amazing even than that is a new mother who picks up and suckles her child. She sniffs the babe first. And when she does something spectacular happens. Her breast milk chemically changes to produce antibodies to combat anything from the world that might harm her child. Anything her babe has been exposed to.  So, how does Mother Church measure up to that? She knows her children and she knows their scent. She knows what they have been exposed to in the world and what harms us. Each of us need those antibodies that would heal us of the dirt and grime of sin that makes our souls sick. Mother Church, at every Mass, is picking us up, smelling us, and feeding us at Her breast saying, ‘This is my body, take and eat’.  She gives us the very heart of Her son and He knows us, and heals wounds that are so deep, each of us differently according to whatever sin is making us sick. “Lamb of God, You take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.” This is the Mass. We are part of the Body, The Bride of Christ, and we are His children and we are so, so sick. We are so sick that we can’t see the beauty of this mystery and have objectified the Mass.

                For the past 50ish years, women have fought to have their worth recognized. They have fallen into the belief that being more like men may give them more equality. They have contracepted to such extent that they have lost their scent and instead of being given the dignity that they deserve, they have become an object.  Women were made to be life giving, nourishing, and comforting but for many, women are seen as some THING to be lusted after, played with, and discarded as the excitement wears thin.  There is nothing more beautiful than a mother breast feeding but men have been shamed and can’t see the beauty without the lust.  I was in Mass one day when my infant daughter needed to nurse.  As I proceeded to feed her in a very discreet manner, a gentleman glanced over. I had no problem with this but his wife on the other hand was so upset with his glance that she insisted that they move. What a pity.  Even women see other women as objects now. But, back to the beauty of breast feeding. Four things happen when we feed our children. Nourishment, healing, contentment, and rest.  These are also the very things that happen to us at the Mass….until of course we muck it up!

                On the seventh day God rested and we are to remember that and keep it Holy. We keep it Holy by resting…resting in the Lord. So my questions are these:  How can we rest when we are constantly trying to adulterate the Mass by exciting ourselves? Why do we compare ourselves with what is going on in some denomination when whatever they are doing there is NOT the Mass? Who is regenerated  by insisting that they are somehow fed by an adrenaline surge? And honestly, what child will breast feed, be nourished and sleep when there is such cacophony? Our prayers should take on the tone of love letters and our music that of a love sonnet, with soothing tones of a lullaby.  The Mass is not a church service. The Mass is not a THING, any more than a woman is a THING.   The Mass is where Mother Church heals us and lets us rest in Her arms and we give thanks for that.  As long as we don’t understand this simple truth, we will never be satisfied, never fed.  Let us come to the breast to be comforted, to be healed, to be of the same stuff, the same flesh as our Lord Jesus Christ. It is that simple.  Let us not try to rethink or rebuild or recreate. We are not Frankenstein’s. What God has brought together, let no man put asunder.  We are set apart from the world and we should look it. See women as the amazing, life giving, nurturing, comforting being that she is, as God created her and see her as a dim reflection of Mother Church.  Then we can stop our snickering and shame at the intimate. Then we may blush, not in shame, but in all holiness, flesh of His flesh. Let us keep the Sabbath, and let us rest.  May God give us this grace.