Birthday of Mary

This Wednesday we celebrate the feast of the Birth of Mary, the mother of Jesus. Have we missed the beat with Mary?

She appears, is named only a few times in the Gospel.

Many of the litanies and names of Mary were composed to hold a mirror up to Jesus and to name Mary.

For example Jesus is called the Redeemer, and so Mary is the co-Redemptrix.

By many, Jesus is called King, and so Mary is named as Queen (every King has to have a Queen, however the Son/Mother relationship does cause some questions?).

Mary appears by name in the Synoptic Gospels and in the book of Acts. Luke contains the most references to Mary and places the greatest emphasis on her role in God’s plan.

Mary is mentioned by name in the genealogy of Jesus, in the annunciation, in Mary’s visit with Elizabeth, in the birth of Jesus, in the visit of the wise men, in Jesus’ presentation in the temple, and in the Nazarene’s rejection of Jesus.

In Acts, she is referred to as “Mary, the mother of Jesus” (Acts 1:14), where she participates in the community of believers and prays with the apostles.

The Gospel of John never mentions Mary by name, but refers to the “mother of Jesus” in the account of the wedding at Cana (John 2:1–11) and standing near the cross at the crucifixion (John 19:25–27).

(One author I once read suggested that Mary may well have appeared more often outside of the Gospels than within them!)

Mary is hardly present throughout the ministry of Jesus, or at least she is not named as being present.

Might I suggest that her not being present, or at least not being named is in fact her biggest being there!

What Jesus learned as a human person he learned from his human family, namely his mother, his human father, maybe his siblings, his grandparents, the village folk in Nazareth, and what he learned from living with a group of twelve sometimes, grumpy men.

Who knows the name of Pope Francis mother?

Who knows the name of the mother of Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King jr, Mahatma Gandhi?

The “absent” mother is present in the son!

I, along with many others of my generation, grew up with a Mary imaged from art and sculpted statues; a virginal young girl, not a wrinkle to be seen, her hands clasped in front of her, her white garment without a stain or wrinkle, and a blue veil.

That all changed me on my journey through the Holy Land in 1984.

It was late August, brutally hot, sandy and arid.

I remember lying in bed one evening after a full days tour and suddenly realizing this was the environment in which Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all those I had become familiar with through the Gospel stories, had lived and grown up in.

However, they

      • did not have the air conditioner on high;
      • they had no cold shower to cool off in;
      • they had no refrigerator to keep the drinks cold;
      • they had no toilets.

How could Mary have had snow white, wrinkle free skin in such a climate?

How could her feet have remained like a porcelain doll walking dusty tracks, carrying heavy vases of water from the well; gathering wood for the fire would not do the fingernails any good!

And I might well imagine the harsh sun and wind chiselled a weather-beaten face to her complexion.

For the record, I didn’t see a blue veil my entire journey through the Holy Land, so where did we get blue from?

The answer is ridiculously simple.

The rarity and difficulty of accessing blue pigment encouraged civilisations to imbue the colour with mystical properties.

In Christian iconography, blue became one of the most sacred colours.

The religious connotations of the pigment were also because it was so expensive.

Artists preserved the most costly colours for important religious subject matters, like the Virgin Mary. A particular shade was even named after her, ‘Marian blue’.

So, once again, Mary has become “costly” and “expensive”.

Would she have wanted that?

When reading the lives of saints my attention is often caught by how many, especially women saints, have come from a poor, uneducated background.

So too Mary, a poor village, and given the culture, she grew up uneducated.

The question I hold is this, have we in our attempt to give due and proper reverence to Mary as the Mother of our Saviour we have unwittingly made of her a model inaccessible to the young women of today.

The image I offer is my personal favourite Of Mary.

The actual painting has nothing to do with Mary. Rather, it is a detail by the Dutch artist Peter Paul Rubens.

The painting is titled “Old Woman With A Basket Of Coal”, painted between 1616 – 1618. In most of our artistic representations of Mary she is never allowed to grow old!

Well, here she is with lines of toil, of dirt, of searing heat, of relentless toil. H

owever, take a moment to stare into here eyes; you may well see grace, wisdom, understanding and compassion.

You may just well be looking into the eyes of her Son.

Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

My name is James, the son of Anna and Barnabas.

Being completely deaf, I was deprived of so much that others take for granted. I had never heard the shouts of children at play, the song of a bird, of the wind in trees, a word of comfort or encouragement.

The fact that I was practically dumb as well added to my sense of deprivation and isolation. And when you are different, people, often, are afraid of you. I was full of self-pity.

One day a man came to my village, I couldn’t hear his name, but I could tell from his dress he was a Jew. What on earth was he doing in a Gentile village in the Decapolis?

Many of those from the village gathered around him.

I followed them.

Many of the villagers looked at me with scorn, “What are you doing here?” their eyes said, ‘you should have stayed at home” the grimace on their face declared.

This man took me aside from the crowd and gave me all his attention. Now, I felt important.

He did not speak to me as it would have been a waste of words. Instead, he touched me; a tender, patient, loving touch.

He made me feel what I couldn’t hear.

Then he put his finger into his mouth, and said, “Be opened!”

And I was!

I heard children laughing, birds singing, the wind in the trees. And I laughed with the children and sang with the birds.

Why am I telling you this?

I discovered many new things in the months that followed.

My first discovery was that a touch offered in love heals!

Also, I learned that many people listen without hearing; many have loose tongues that would be better tied; many have ears to hear, and tongues to proclaim.

But why proclaim if no one is listening?

And at times all are proclaiming so loudly that no one can hear.

Hearing and speech are great gifts. They are heart gifts. It is only with the heart that we can listen rightly, and only with the heart that we can speak rightly.

You know the very best thing about receiving my hearing?

I heard my Mother and Father call my name! And the very best thing about receiving my speech? I could proclaim, “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening!”

 

Twenty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

“Make sure you wash your hands before coming to the table. Quick tea is ready!”

I wonder how many times I heard that said to me (and my brothers and sisters).

And, having spent most of the day outside touching everything from cricket balls to tennis racquets; from rugby balls to worms in a puddle; from bike chains to the bark and branches of trees; it was a reasonable and sensible request.

Now that same request is being urged on myself and indeed on us all.

With the presence of the coronavirus, Covid-19, in our communities and nations world-wide there is a strong request that we wash our hands.

It seems so simple: Washing our hands is one of the easiest ways to keep ourselves safe.

Wash often with soap for 20 seconds. Then dry.; this kills the virus by bursting its protective bubble.

When you pause and consider your daily activities prior to the virus pandemic, handwashing was a regular occurrence during our daytime activities.

The Cambridge English dictionary gives the meaning of “ritual” as ‘a set of fixed actions and sometimes words performed regularly, especially as part of a ceremony’.

Is it pushing things too far to suggest that the simple act of hand washing is a ritual?

When you stop and reflect for a moment we have many daily rituals, fixed actions which we perform with such regularity, that their very regularity demotes them to habits.

When I retire for the night, when I wake in the morning, how I wash and prepare myself for the day, what I have for breakfast, what is my morning drink . . . . and on and on.

Our day is filled with habitual behaviours.

If we dared slow down and took time over these actions honouring them as wholesome and life-giving then I am convinced the ritual nature of them would become evident.

At the beginning of our Eucharist, after the opening song there is what is known as the Penitential Rite.

Frequently it is over before persons have put their hymnal away, and before you know we are sitting down to attend to the readings which form the Liturgy of the Word.

The Penitential Rite begins with an invitation from the Presider to ‘call to mind our sins’, or words with a similar invitation, and then, before we have time to recall even one little word or act we move on.

However, there is a part of that ritual I consider vitally important.

In the text the presider uses there is a small line written in red which is known as a rubric. This ‘rubric’ reads, “the absolution by the priest follows” (Roman Missal p. 507).

Stop a moment and read that again, “the absolution by the priest follows”.

The Oxford dictionary defines absolution as “a formal statement that a person is forgiven for what he or she has done wrong.”

Now, logic was not one of my better subjects, however I would take it that any indiscretion/sin that I have called to mind during the Penitential Rite is forgiven!

Wow!

The questions I hold are twofold,

  • is such a dramatic ritual in the right place in our liturgy?, and
  • do we do it so often that it has become a habit rather than a ritual?

 

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

I have had the good fortune to visit many places of exceptional natural beauty.

Two stand out in my memory always; the Grand Canyon in Arizona, and Niagara Falls which border New York State in the USA and Ontario Canada.

Like many natural beauties, they can be experienced, however words fail to describe the experience with any accuracy.

“You will just have to see for yourself!” the person trying to describe will end up saying.

The same is true for great works of art, opera, musical composition. How does one put into words the different hues of blue in Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”, or the exquisite beauty in the harmony from Mozart’s duet ‘La ci darem la mano’ from the opera Don Giovanni, or Puccini’s B4, required of the tenor in the aria ‘Nesun Dorma’ from the opera Turandot?

I remember well while on a formation programme for Spiritual Directors one of the facilitators of the course saying quite definitely, “whenever you are sitting with another, and they preface their remarks by saying, ‘you are not going to believe this, but . . .’ or in a similar way saying, ‘this may sound silly to you, but . . . ‘ prick up your ears and pay close attention, they are about to attempt to put into words an experience of God!”

God’s ways are not our ways!

There is more truth to that than we normally think.

God is ineffable.

What that means is that God cannot be captured in our thoughts or pictured inside our imaginations.

This truth is one of the first things that the church affirms in its understanding of God, defining as a dogma at the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 that God is so metaphysically different from anything we can know or imagine that all of our concepts and language about God are always more inadequate than adequate.

God can be known, but never imagined or captured in a thought.

Why not?

Why can we never form a picture of God or speak about God in adequate ways?

Because God is infinite and our minds are finite. Infinity, by definition, can never be circumscribed.

That might sound abstract, but it is not.

For example: Try to imagine the highest number to which it is possible to count?

Instantly you realize that this is an impossible task because numbers are infinite and there is always one more. It is impossible to conceive of the highest number.

This is even truer in terms of any imaginative picture we try to form of God and of how we try to imagine God’s existence. God is infinite and infinity cannot be captured or imagined inside of any finite thought.

This is important to understand, not to safeguard some theoretical point, but for our understanding of faith.

We tend to identify a weak faith with a weak imagination, just as we tend to identify atheism with the incapacity to imagine the existence of God

Faith in God is not to be confused with the capacity or incapacity to imagine God’s existence.

Infinity cannot be circumscribed by the imagination.  All we say of God is true, but . . . there is always more.

With God it is always ‘not only but also’.

Many will have heard part or all of the duet titled ‘Au fond du temple saint’ from Bizet’s opera The Pearl Fishers (NZ Rail do the duet are huge disservice by using only a part of the duet as music to their TV commercial!).

My guess is that few would understand a word of it as it is sung in French!

Few would know that it is a song of reconciliation between friends who had fallen out!

However, if you close your eyes and listen with the ears of the heart, words and meaning have no purpose as you are caught up in the beauty of the sound.

My suggestion is, faith may be less about knowing, and more about enjoying.

If you wish to experience God, close off the eyes of your mind, open wide the ears of your soul and listen to the music your God is singing.