Theology of the Angry Mother

Madonna by Edvard Munch. Public Domain. Source: Wikimedia Commons

I want a Theology of Mary, rage-filled
I think she was shrieking when she spat out the Magnificat

I want a Theology that explores her rage at the injustices of her time
Of your time 
Of mine

At their stupidity, those who would have stoned her and the fetus in her womb, the God-ordained gift to mankind 

The rage she felt, at her own helplessness, 
As her son bled out before her

At their ineptness, when they hid in the upper room, 
And she and her sisters brought anointing for his corpse

And later, the obtuseness
Of the Bishops and priests,
Once they'd rid their order of any female presence
So they were left to argue over her virginity
When they could have been arguing over so much more

Like the way the poor
Are always with us
Is that a curse, a blessing, or simply a fact foretold?

And the way God is mystery untold
But they are obsessed in the telling

I want a Mary, seething with rage at the shackles the Church has thrust upon her,
Meek and Mild, Silent Night, demure
Utterly pure

When she was so much more
Than the corpselike Virgin-Madonna
Atop your pedestal