From Grace Hamman’s Jesus Through Medieval Eyes, the chapter on Christ as Mother. For Holy Week:
As Eve cried out in labor,
who bore the curse and Cain,
and wept again for Abel,
so you bear us in pain.
The body gaping open,
the wound of our first sin,
brings healing through the broken—
and new life enters in.
You walked the earth our brother,
formed with us of the dirt.
Now on the cross as mother,
your labor gives us birth
of water and the Spirit,
of holiness and blood.
The sin that we inherit
is drowned out in your flood.
Your body is out birthplace;
your sorrow is our hope.
O firstfruits of our dead race,
your life becomes our hope.
Your wounds O Lord, our shelter:
the shadow of your wings.
The cleft rock is our refuge,
O mother of all things!
The Birth of Ecclesia, fol. 2v (detail), ONB Han. Cod. 2554, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna. Made in Paris, 1225–49.
Kate Bluett 