Jesus As Mother

From the Introduction, by Caroline Walker Bynum: The opportunity to rethink and republish several of my early articles in combination with a new essay on the thirteenth century has led me to consider the continuity-both of argument and of approach-that underlies them. In one sense, their interrelationship is obvious. The first two address a question that was more in the forefront of scholarship a dozen years ago than it is today: the question of differences among religious orders. These two essays set out a method of reading texts for imagery and borrowings as well as for spiritual teaching in order to determine whether individuals who live in different institutional settings hold differing assumptions about the significance of their lives. The essays apply the method to the broader question of differences between regular canons and monks and the narrower question of differences between one kind of monk--the Cistercians--and other religious groups, monastic and nonmonastic, of the twelfth century. The third essay draws on some of the themes of the first two, particularly the discussion of canonical and Cistercian conceptions of the individual brother as example, to suggest an interpretation of twelfth-century religious life as concerned with the nature of groups as well as with affective expression. The fourth essay, again on Cistercian monks, elaborates themes of the first three. Its subsidiary goals are to provide further evidence on distinctively Cistercian attitudes and to elaborate the Cistercian ambivalence about vocation that I delineate in the essay on conceptions of community. It also raises questions that have now become popular in nonacademic as well as academic circles: what significance should we give to the increase of feminine imagery in twelfth-century religious writing by males? Can we learn anything about distinctively male or female spiritualities from this feminization of language? The fifth essay differs from the others in turning to the thirteenth century rather than the twelfth, to women rather than men, to detailed analysis of many themes in a few thinkers rather than one theme in many writers; it is nonetheless based on the conclusions of the earlier studies. The sense of monastic vocation and of the priesthood, of the authority of God and self, and of the significance of gender that I find in the three great mystics of late thirteenth-century Helfta can be understood only against the background of the growing twelfth- and thirteenth-century concern for evangelism and for an approachable God, which are the basic themes of the first four essays. Such connections between the essays will be clear to anyone who reads them. There are, however, deeper methodological and interpretive continuities among them that I wish to underline here. For these studies constitute a plea for an approach to medieval spirituality that is not now--and perhaps has never been--dominant in medieval scholarship. They also provide an interpretation of the religious life of the high Middle Ages that runs against the grain of recent emphases on the emergence of "lay spirituality." I therefore propose to give, as introduction, both a discussion of recent approaches to medieval piety and a short sketch of the religious history of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, emphasizing those themes that are the context for my specific investigations. I do not want to be misunderstood. In providing here a discussion of approaches to and trends in medieval religion I am not claiming that the studies that follow constitute a general history nor that my method should replace that of social, institutional, and intellectual historians. A handful of Cistercians does not typify the twelfth century, nor three nuns the thirteenth. Religious imagery, on which I concentrate, does not tell us how people lived. But because these essays approach texts in a way others have not done, focus on imagery others have not found important, and insist, as others have not insisted, on comparing groups to other groups (e.g., comparing what is peculiarly male to what is female as well as vice versa), I want to call attention to my approach to and my interpretation of the high Middle Ages in the hope of encouraging others to ask similar questions.

From the Introduction, by Caroline Walker Bynum: The opportunity to rethink and republish several of my early articles in combination with a new essay on the thirteenth century has led me to consider the continuity-both of argument and of approach-that underlies them. In one sense, their interrelationship is obvious. The first two address a question that was more in the forefront of scholarship a dozen years ago than it is today: the question of differences among religious orders. These two essays set out a method of reading texts for imagery and borrowings as well as for spiritual teaching in order to determine whether individuals who live in different institutional settings hold differing assumptions about the significance of their lives. The essays apply the method to the broader question of differences between regular canons and monks and the narrower question of differences between one kind of monk--the Cistercians--and other religious groups, monastic and nonmonastic, of the twelfth century. The third essay draws on some of the themes of the first two, particularly the discussion of canonical and Cistercian conceptions of the individual brother as example, to suggest an interpretation of twelfth-century religious life as concerned with the nature of groups as well as with affective expression. The fourth essay, again on Cistercian monks, elaborates themes of the first three. Its subsidiary goals are to provide further evidence on distinctively Cistercian attitudes and to elaborate the Cistercian ambivalence about vocation that I delineate in the essay on conceptions of community. It also raises questions that have now become popular in nonacademic as well as academic circles: what significance should we give to the increase of feminine imagery in twelfth-century religious writing by males? Can we learn anything about distinctively male or female spiritualities from this feminization of language? The fifth essay differs from the others in turning to the thirteenth century rather than the twelfth, to women rather than men, to detailed analysis of many themes in a few thinkers rather than one theme in many writers; it is nonetheless based on the conclusions of the earlier studies. The sense of monastic vocation and of the priesthood, of the authority of God and self, and of the significance of gender that I find in the three great mystics of late thirteenth-century Helfta can be understood only against the background of the growing twelfth- and thirteenth-century concern for evangelism and for an approachable God, which are the basic themes of the first four essays. Such connections between the essays will be clear to anyone who reads them. There are, however, deeper methodological and interpretive continuities among them that I wish to underline here. For these studies constitute a plea for an approach to medieval spirituality that is not now--and perhaps has never been--dominant in medieval scholarship. They also provide an interpretation of the religious life of the high Middle Ages that runs against the grain of recent emphases on the emergence of "lay spirituality." I therefore propose to give, as introduction, both a discussion of recent approaches to medieval piety and a short sketch of the religious history of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, emphasizing those themes that are the context for my specific investigations. I do not want to be misunderstood. In providing here a discussion of approaches to and trends in medieval religion I am not claiming that the studies that follow constitute a general history nor that my method should replace that of social, institutional, and intellectual historians. A handful of Cistercians does not typify the twelfth century, nor three nuns the thirteenth. Religious imagery, on which I concentrate, does not tell us how people lived. But because these essays approach texts in a way others have not done, focus on imagery others have not found important, and insist, as others have not insisted, on comparing groups to other groups (e.g., comparing what is peculiarly male to what is female as well as vice versa), I want to call attention to my approach to and my interpretation of the high Middle Ages in the hope of encouraging others to ask similar questions.

A beautifully illustrated picture book portrayal of the life of Mary, mother of Jesus Mary has captured the hearts of people throughout the centuries. Great cathedrals have been built in her honor. Many Christians venerate her image. Nearly 80,000 visions of Mary have been claimed since the third century AD. Drawing on scripture, legend, and tradition, Tomie dePaola re-tells the story of Mary’s life in fifteen beautifully illustrated, child-friendly segments. This is a fixed-format ebook, which preserves the design and layout of the original print book.

She's the most famous woman in history, yet almost nothing is known about her. Although she's portrayed as the gentlest and most tragic of all women, her name has been used as an excuse for internecine hatred and wars between peoples. But who was Mary, mother of Jesus Christ? What type of family did she have? What was the community like in which she grew from child to teenager forced to marry a man three times her age? And why have virtually all the details of her early life been obscured and censored by the writers of the Bible? In The Book of Mary, novelist Alan Gold looks at first century Israel under the iron heels of Roman occupation and uncovers what life was like for a young woman in a distant outpost of the most aggressive and merciless Empire in history. Following Mary's story from teenager to a young woman married to a widower, to mother, and then to become a devotee of the new religion her Son had created. This tragic yet virtually unknown woman is forced to witness the excruciating pain of her son's crucifixion.

Based on Kurt Bennett's popular-ish blog God Running, Love Like Jesus begins with the story of how after a life of regular church attendance and Bible study, Bennett was challenged by a pastor to study Jesus. That led to an obsessive seven-year deep dive. After pouring over Jesus' every interaction with another human being, he realized he was doing a much better job of studying Jesus' words than he was following Jesus' words and example. The honest and fearless revelations of Bennett's own moral failures affirm he wrote this book for himself as much as for others. Love Like Jesus examines a variety of stories, examples, and research, including: -Specific examples of how Jesus communicated God's love to others. -How Jesus demonstrated all five of Gary Chapman's love languages (and how you can too). -The story of how Billy Graham extended Christ's extraordinary love and grace toward a man who misrepresented Jesus to millions. -How to respond to critics the way Jesus did. -How to love unlovable people the way Jesus did. -How to survive a life of loving like Jesus (or how not to become a Christian doormat). -How Jesus didn't love everyone the same (and why you shouldn't either). -How Jesus guarded his heart by taking care of himself--he even napped--and why you should do the same.-How Jesus loved his betrayer Judas, even to the very end. With genuine unfiltered honesty, Love Like Jesus, shows you how to live a life according to God's definition of success: A life of loving God well, and loving the people around you well too. A life of loving like Jesus.

Mary was just one of the carefree young girls who went to the well at dawn to get water. I enjoyed watching her because she seemed unusually sweet and innocent- and sincere. No one knew what to think when she fled so suddenly to Elisabeth's place in Ain Karim. Rumor had it she had seen an angel, but I didn't put too much stock in that. After all, she was young and impressionable. But when she came back obviously pregnant, how the tongues did wag! I watched her from a distance, all through the years. I heard about the remarkable flight to Egypt with her husband, Joseph, and was glad they chose to return to Nazareth after all was said and done. They had a cute boy; they named him Jesus. A person couldn't help loving him. I could tell she was really wrapped up in her children, especially that boy. I had to scratch my head a few times, though, when he started doing miracles-pretty uncanny, that. But his preaching, well, that sure had a way of touching the heart. That same heart nearly broke when I saw her grief when her boy was crucified. You'll read about it through Mary's eyes, through her words and her tears, in this, her diary.

This newly revised and expanded edition of Praying with Mother Teresa contains 17 short meditations that cover the main themes of her spirituality, which focused on seeing her beloved Christ in all she met, especially in the poorest of the poor.

Biblical Storytelling At Its Best! Helen Bruch Pearson examines the biblical witness of: Tamar Rahab Ruth Bathsheba Mary, the mother of Jesus Join Pearson as she fills in the gaps and helps history become her-story.