Mark 10:45

Tag: Love

  • Minute Meditation: St. Martin de Porres

    Minute Meditation: St. Martin de Porres

    Philippians 2:5-11

    Among the most important things we ever say, our last words probably rank pretty high. That is certainly the time to say the one thing that is closest to our heart; the thing we want others to hear and perhaps even remember us by.

    The last words of the man we remember today, St. Martin de Porres, are a perfect case in point. Brief yet the height of eloquence, they capture him as no other words could. As he lay near death, Martin continued to do what he so often did in life – he prayed. As he and his Dominican community recited the Creed, St. Martin breathed his last at the words of the Incarnation: “et homo factus est” (“And became man”).

    It is fortuitous that the first reading today gives us those beautiful words of Philippians that sing of our Lord, Jesus Christ: though he was in the form of God, (he) did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave… (Philippians 2:6-7). Since those words were first written, humanity has struggled to understand this depth of humility; how the all-powerful, indivisible, unseen God could so humble himself as to take up the fragile flesh of his own creation and, through the perfect oblation of his passion, death, and resurrection lift, redeem and exalt it to the glory of God the Father.

    Imagine the mercy; imagine the kind of love that would do this.

    This was the love that St. Martin de Porres poured himself out to imitate: To be himself that same model of charity; to plumb the depths of humility that would bring him closer and closer to Christ. Driven by this, Martin spent his life doing the things that Christ did – praying constantly, working incessantly, serving the servants, offering himself whenever and wherever he could. All this made his last words not only an affirmation of the Incarnation but the most eloquent and fitting summary of his life: Humility born of love, given completely to service, that others may live.

    St. Martin de Porres, pray for us.

  • Lost and Found in Translation: Tuesday of the 30th Week in Ordinary Time

    Lost and Found in Translation: Tuesday of the 30th Week in Ordinary Time

    Ephesians 5:21-33; Luke 13:18-21

    When people say, “it’s all Greek to me,” they mean that they don’t understand what they’re hearing or reading. We may not realize it but we could often say the same thing about the bible, not so much because it really was written in Greek (and Hebrew) but because things get lost in translation. Sometimes those things don’t matter much; other times they can make a great deal of difference.

    Today’s first reading is a perfect case in point. What may come across as little more than a discourse on marriage is actually a beautiful meditation on various aspects of love that can benefit all people, married or not. The problem is that some of the subtleties lie hidden beneath the surface, lost in translation.

    For example, he begins: Be subordinate to one another out of reverence for Christ. Although the meaning seems obvious, there are nuances. First, the word we translate as “subordinate” also implies obedience, like servant to master. Second, when he says “one another” he means everyone, not a select few. Third, the phrase “reverence for Christ” literally translates “in the fear of Christ.” So, what seems like a simple exhortation to treat each other well is actually a bold challenge to love like Christ: with the humility that seeks to serve and not to be served, and the fear of the Lord by which we reverence God above all things and others out of love for him.

    When it comes to the married, St. Paul begins with what many today see as a put-down of women: Wives should be subordinate to their husbands…. And while he clearly does follow the custom of placing men at the head of the household, an important subtlety is missing from our text. The original Greek reads, wives should be subordinate to their own husbands…. Whatever the reason, St. Paul clearly feels the need to remind the Ephesians of two additional aspects of love: Chastity and faithfulness. Once again, this is a lesson for us; just as we love the Lord and have no false gods before him, so we are to be chaste – faithful to our state in life – whether lay or clergy, married or single.

    Notice too that St. Paul quotes Genesis: a man shall leave his father and his mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. This is the highest unity we can achieve – a bodily and spiritual communion ordained by God and indivisible by man. When I say “indivisible” I mean exactly that. In the original Hebrew and Greek the word is not joined, but glued. Imagine gluing two sheets of paper together and then, after it has set, trying to separate them. They will tear. We all know of the pain and sadness of the disunity that comes with divorce.

    Not that unity is pain free. In any long-term relationship like marriage, unity requires self-sacrifice. This is especially true as relationships mature over time. Life tends to show us things we didn’t see in the early years; among them, the weaknesses and failings of others. Our natural tendency is to focus on our own pain and suffering, to place blame on others rather than see our own role in them, and to withhold forgiveness rather than make peace with them and ourselves.

    But as St. Paul reminds us, we are to love as Christ loves the Church: Completely, despite and beyond its weaknesses, to the point of dying that she may live. This is the daily discipline of being servant of all, faithful to our state in life whatever it is, and bound to God and each other in a relationship that is life-giving, life-sustaining, and life-affirming, no matter the cost. This is painful but that is the pain of healing, the death that gives way to the new life of resurrection.

    Our Lord points to this in parable form in the gospel, where we see another aspect of love: that it not only unites but multiplies. When the Christian dies to self like leaven, the Church rises like three measures of flour; when husband and wife die to self, their new family flourishes, rising like the branches of the mustard plant toward Heaven, a home for its children.

    This is not possible apart from the grace of God, for God is Love and his grace the glue that binds us one to the other. The power of his grace works within us to form the mind of Christ, to imitate the love of Christ, and to hope more and more in the promise of Christ: that those who love as he loves will one day live as he lives, in the eternal life and infinite love of the Most Holy Trinity.

  • Happy Shall You Be, and Favored: Wednesday of the 21st Week in Ordinary Time

    Happy Shall You Be, and Favored: Wednesday of the 21st Week in Ordinary Time

    2 Thessalonians 3:6-10,16-18; Psalm 128:1-2; Matthew 23:27-32

    When I was a child, learning came quickly and easily to me. I was the type of student who excelled without much effort. I expected that to continue when I got to graduate school but it didn’t; I quickly found myself struggling. Although the other students seemed to have no trouble, the nebulous concepts and abstract theories baffled me. I was lost.

    All that changed one semester when I took a class from a professor who had turned to teaching after a long career in the business world. He taught concepts and theories too but not as vague abstractions; he applied them to real-life situations that he had actually experienced. Under that kind of teaching I again excelled and this taught me something about myself: I did much better when concepts were modeled for me than when I was left to figure them out on my own.

    Perhaps that’s why the first reading resonates with me. It is taken from St. Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians. His first letter years earlier talked at some length about the end times and it may be that over time these people had focused on that and not on the gospel. In any event St. Paul and his companions visited them, as he says, to present ourselves as a model for you, so that you might imitate us (2 Thessalonians 3:9). In so doing, he must have thought that modeling would serve as a concrete, practical example of how to more fully live out the gospel as Christ intended.

    Of course, no matter how well the Thessalonians learned about the Christian life, their imitation of it had to come from a sincere and genuine faith. Otherwise it was merely an act, an outward show, and they were no more than hypocrites, the name Jesus called the scribes and Pharisees in the gospel. In those days the Greek word “hypocrite” referred to actors on stage who hid behind large masks and in exaggerated motions pretended to be who they were not.

    Although we have long since lost that particular meaning, we all know that hypocrisy is hardly limited to the ancient world and that the words of Christ indict us as well. In our own ways each of us knows what it means to hide behind a mask, pretend to be who we are not, and speaks from a divided heart. We may have many reasons – the pain of rejection, reluctance to stand out from the crowd, etc. – nevertheless we know deep down that these are rationalizations based on fear.

    But like the Thessalonians we have spent too much time on the wrong thing. We should not be focused on servile fear – a fear of punishment – but on holy fear, the fear of the Lord as in today’s psalm. Pope Francis has reminded us that holy fear is “the joyful awareness of God’s grandeur and a grateful realization that only in him do our hearts find true peace.”1

    That is the peace prayed for by St. Paul at all times and in every way (2 Thessalonians 3:16) who knew that true peace only comes when we have conquered our servile fear and live in imitation of Christ as the people we were created to be. We can only do this by the Spirit’s gift of holy fear which, again to quote Pope Francis, “allows us to imitate the Lord in humility and obedience, not with a resigned and passive attitude, but with courage and joy.”2

    Therefore, let us pray for the virtues that help us overcome hypocrisy: humility, obedience and fortitude, and especially for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit’s gift of fear of the Lord, that we may taste the wonderful fruits of his handiwork: Love, joy, and peace. As the psalmist has so beautifully sung, Happy shall you be, and favored (Psalm 128:2).

    1https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/pope-fear-of-the-lord-an-alarm-reminding-us-of-whats-right-48609

    2 Ibid.

  • Love Worthy of Suffering: Friday of the 18th Week of Ordinary Time

    Love Worthy of Suffering: Friday of the 18th Week of Ordinary Time

    Matthew 16:24-28

    I recently came across a profoundly moving book entitled Man’s Search for Meaning by the Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Dr. Viktor Frankl. In it he recounts many of the horrors of his internment in the Nazi death camps. What sets this book apart from other such accounts is that his perspective as a physician and psychiatrist imbues that experience with some remarkable insights that everyone can profit from.

    His greatest insight, hinted at in the title of the book stems from his observation that the prison camps held two distinct types of prisoner. The first and by far the majority were those who competed and struggled against each other to gain even the smallest amount of power, control, or possessions. They did so regardless of the cost to others or to their own dignity because they saw it as the way alleviate as much of their own suffering as they could. The second group was different; these prisoners befriended and looked out for others, comforted or consoled them, gave them hope. These people, Frankl realized, did so because they were searching for meaning in their suffering; they recognized in themselves and in others a freedom and dignity that no Nazi could beat, starve, or gas out of them. He went on to write: “The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity – even under the most difficult circumstances – to add a deeper meaning to his life.”

    This is exactly why Christ so challenged his disciples with the difficult words in today’s gospel; why he said, Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me (Matthew 16:24). Denying ourselves, bearing the weight of suffering, and following Christ can hurt physically, emotionally, and spiritually. But it hurts more not to, for then we become like the first group of prisoners: Grasping and fighting to reserve power, control, and comfort to ourselves. So often Frankl found that their strategy backfired; prisoners worked hard to preserve their lives but lost them anyway.

    When Christ said whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it (Matthew 16:25) we rightly wonder how we can lose our life by saving it or save our life by losing it. However, the translation of “save our life” in this context is “protect” or “keep safe.” Thus, Jesus is counseling us not to keep safe but to risk being hurt, for only when we do that can we enjoy eternal life with God in heaven.

    Although that might help us understand his words, it doesn’t make living it out any easier. It seems as if Jesus is teaching that the way to avoid suffering in the afterlife is to endure suffering in this life. That seems cruel! Does Jesus really want us to suffer? What does suffering gain us?

    If we take the attitude of the first group of prisoners, the answer is “nothing.” Suffering exists only to be eliminated; it is not something to endure – for its own sake or anyone else’s.

    That is the attitude of love turned inward and as Frankl saw, the result was little gain and much futility. Love turned outward is in the image of God who is Love itself, and no one modeled that image better than Jesus, who is the image of the invisible God (Colossians 1:15). By his Incarnation Jesus taught that true love seeks neither isolation nor safety but entanglement and risk. God could have chosen to save fallen humanity from the safety of pure divinity. He didn’t; he chose to dwell among us, to take on the nature he created and raise it from within; to bind himself to the human condition beyond any untying and restore it to its original capacity for the deepest love possible: Eternal union with him. Jesus spent his life and ministry showing us what it means to love as God loves: He made himself vulnerable in the sight of others, exposed his deepest longings, deepest fears, deepest joys, his deepest self. Of course, he risked rejection and it cost him his life, but that is what love does; it was in the nature of his perfect divinity that from the depths of his infinite love and mercy, he glorified what mankind so quickly crucified.

    This tells us that Jesus doesn’t want us to suffer, he wants us to love; by its very nature, love risks suffering and when perfected will endure any amount of suffering for the sake of the beloved. Like the prisoners in the death camp we are perfectly free to refuse, but refusing to love means that we give nothing, share nothing, resist the promptings of the Holy Spirit, and remain isolated even from God himself. Some may call that safety but Christ calls it loss, for he knows that the only thing we bring to heaven is the love that we have given away.

  • No Reluctant Prophet: Monday of the 16th Week in Ordinary Time

    No Reluctant Prophet: Monday of the 16th Week in Ordinary Time

    Micah 6:1-4, 6-8; Psalm 50:23; Matthew 12:38-42

    So far in this chapter of Matthew we have seen Jesus being treated by the Pharisees like a man on trial. They have twice accused him of violating the sabbath, once of being in league with demons, and now, joined by the scribes, they confront him with the demand for a sign from God (Matthew 12:38).

    Given their lack of faith in Jesus this may seem reasonable but it betrays at least two problems they have in their relationship with God. First, no scribe or Pharisee, no human being is ever in a position to put God on trial or make Him prove anything. If anyone is on trial it’s us, as the prophet Micah said in the first reading: the LORD has a plea against his people, and he enters into trial with Israel (6:2). What’s more, we don’t get to tell God who He works through or how He does things. As He also said through Micah, I brought you up from the land of Egypt… I released you… I sent before you Moses, Aaron, and Miriam (6:4). God calls the people, God determines the path. Second, notice how Christ responds to the demand of the scribes and Pharisees by speaking of an “unfaithful” – or “adulterous” – generation (Matthew 12:39). This nuptial language goes to the heart of the real problem, which is the failure of these men to understand that our relationship with God is not a contract, or something we negotiate. It is a covenant, a mutual giving of our entire selves one to the other; a commitment that is total and unto death.

    Jesus drives this point home with true irony by bringing up Jonah for as everyone knew, Jonah was a prophet who was “total” only in his defiance of God’s will and “unto death” only in his effort to avoid doing it. The so-called “reluctant” prophet, Jonah sailed the other way when God called him to preach to pagan Nineveh, tried to drown himself in the sea when he got caught, spoke as little prophecy as possible, angrily complained when Nineveh repented, and worried more about losing the shade from a plant than about the possibility of over a hundred thousand Ninevites dying. Jonah was the perfect example of how not to commit yourself to God.

    Yet Christ took that prophet and made a sign out of him: Just as Jonah was in the belly of the whale… so will the Son of Man be in the heart of the earth (Matthew 12:40). Out of that one point of deep darkness – the disobedient man’s descent into the belly of the beast – Christ brings one point of brilliant light – the obedient Son of Man’s descent into the heart of the earth, or, as we say in the Apostles’ Creed, his descent to the dead. There of course he would preach as Jonah could only wish to, and release those repentant souls who had been awaiting the redemption only He could bring.

    Had the scribes and Pharisees recognized the prophetic truth that Christ had just spoken, they would have known that all they had left was the question from Micah: With what shall I come before the LORD, and bow before God most high (6:6)? Since they did not, we turn to ourselves, for we too are on trial. In our own ways, we are all guilty of being a reluctant prophet: Avoiding various calls to serve, stubbornly resisting God’s will, doing the minimum possible, complaining to God about people whose repentance only He can know, and worrying more about our own comfort than about the suffering of many around us.

    So, with what shall we come? Scripture makes it clear: Prayer and sacrifice. As Micah urges us to do right, love goodness, and walk humbly with God (6:8), we pray for the virtues: Prudence, to know what is right; fortitude, to do it; wisdom, to see and love God’s goodness in all people; humility, to walk with God where He leads; and faith, to trust and praise Him at all times. This is a sacrifice, for like Jonah we are inclined to do what we want, love what we want, and walk where we please. But through the psalmist God reassures us: He that offers praise as a sacrifice glorifies me; and to him that goes the right way I will show the salvation of God (Psalm 50:23). The Salvation of God is Christ, who does only right, is love and goodness itself, and who walked in perfect humility all the way from the heart of his Father to the womb of his Mother, from the height of the cross to the heart of the earth, and from the Sacraments he has given the Church into the hearts of all believers.

  • A Mother’s Love: Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church

    Acts 1:12-14; John 19:25-34

    If my mother said one thing to me consistently from the time I can remember, it was that she loved me. She said it all the time. When she felt the need to go beyond that, she’d say, “You will never know how much I love you until you have children of your own.”

    To me, that’s a way of saying that the deepest love cannot be described, it can only be experienced. That may be true, but perhaps science has begun to come close. I came across a recent study that tried to capture the bond between a mother and her children neurologically. In one part, a group of mothers were shown images of people under stress and asked to imagine themselves in that situation. Various brain responses were recorded. Next, they were asked to imagine their children in those same situations and were again measured. The responses of many of these women were nearly identical in both cases; in other words, mothers tended to feel what their child was going through as if they themselves were going through it. As far as they were concerned, they and their child were one.

    In light of this, let us pause and reflect on the scene in our gospel reading today. Notice that John, unlike the other evangelists, places Mary right at the cross, not at a distance from it. Our instinctive reaction is to imagine what she felt watching her child suffer so. What mother would not suffer at such a moment, let alone the Blessed Mother? Despite the pain, despite the abandonment of nearly everyone else, Mary remained at his side. Over and above this consider her lifelong, steadfast faithfulness. The gospels make it clear: Mary is the only person to be with Jesus at every pivotal moment of his life from conception to death. She is his mother, but she is his disciple first. Her life is a testament to the advice she herself gave to the wedding stewards at Cana: Do whatever he tells you (John 2:5).

    Knowing that, her Son gives his mother more to do. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother.” (John 19:26). Note the high regard Jesus has for Mary. He speaks when he sees her; he speaks first to her; most importantly, he expands her role as mother to now include the ideal or Beloved Disciple. In the words of theologian Fr. Raymond Brown, this is Christ’s “ last-willed … act of empowerment that both reveals and makes come about a new relationship.”1

    That new relationship is Mary as mother of the Church, for Christ has raised her from being mother of the head to mother also of his Mystical Body. Under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the Church proclaims from ancient times that she was born from the wounded side of Christ as he slept the sleep of death upon the cross.2

    jesus-284515_640Mary understood this and, as in all things, obeyed her Lord. That is why in the first reading we find her with the Church – the disciples in the upper room – in prayer. Mary has the most marvelous intercessory role; obedient daughter of the Father, mother of his only Son, and spouse of the Holy Spirit. She is in the perfect position to intercede for the Church.

    Someone once said that the word ‘mother’ isn’t a noun as much as it’s a verb. So today, on the Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church, consider how Mary’s role from the beginning has been to ‘mother’ people to God by being a model of prayer, discipleship, and unconditional love. And operating on the principle that we will never know how much our Mother loves us until we have children of our own, we must remember that Mary’s model of motherhood is meant to be imitated; we too are called to ‘mother’ people into the Church.

    If we don’t know where to start learning from her, begin with the rosary. From the joyful mysteries alone we learn humility, love of neighbor, poverty of spirit, obedience, and piety. Every major event in her life a mystery, every mystery with its own fruit, every fruit centered on Christ. That is the key; Mary teaches us through the rosary what she teaches through her life; that bringing people to the Church is nothing more or less than bringing them to her Son and allowing him to stir within them the flame of divine love which truly cannot be described but only experienced, and in which we are truly one.

    Mary, Mother of the Church, pray for us.

    Mass, June 1 2020

    1Brown, Fr. R.E., SS (1994). The Death of the Messiah: From Gethsemane to the Grave. New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.. p 1021.

  • The Other Side of Suffering

    Hebrews 5:7-9

    From the time we first became Christians, we have learned that the standard for our behavior is not those around us but Christ. Given that, it might be easy to give up and say that we can never reach that standard of perfection.

    That’s true. Left to ourselves, we can’t.

    But as the author of the letter to the Hebrews reminds us, we aren’t left to ourselves. In his infinite mercy, Jesus sympathizes with our weakness. Even though he himself never fell to the many temptations that weighed on him like a cross and surrounded him like a crown of thorns, he knows what it’s like to carry them, to bear their weight and feel their pain, but also to endure and overcome them.

    Fully man, Christ knows what it means to feel the kind of pain that leaves us without words; able only to offer prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him (Hebrews 5:7). Enduring that kind of torment, he must also have felt the natural reaction of the human body to fight against and relieve the pain – on this day, to come down from the cross – yet Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered (Hebrews 5:8).

    good-friday-2264164_640But Jesus also taught us through his obedience unto death that glory waits on the other side of suffering; that being made perfect is not a matter of doing all things on our own, but the opposite: Letting go of control and uniting ourselves more and more to the will of the One who is our true strength.

    This is the ultimate lesson of Good Friday. Christ’s triumph over self-will and self-reliance did not enable him to merely sympathize with our suffering or feel our pain but to be perfectly in himself the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him (Hebrews 5:9).

    We adore you O Christ and we praise you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

  • Holy Thursday: The Primacy of Service

    John 13:1-15

    Today we read from John’s account of the last evening that Jesus spent with his disciples before his Passion and death. The other evangelists take this opportunity to provide us with the Institution Narrative, or the words spoken by Christ that to this day are repeated by the priest during the Consecration at holy Mass.

    John does not do this; rather, he uses the occasion of the Last Supper to depict Jesus washing the feet of his disciples and commanding them to do likewise. We don’t know why, but it’s possible that by the time the evangelist composed this gospel account the Breaking of the Bread had become an occasion for people to segregate into groups and eat and drink their fill, rather than to unite and commemorate the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of our Lord as one body.

    passion-3807312_640By showing Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, the evangelist re-emphasizes the primacy of service. Those who would be greatest must become the least. This is the humility and love behind the gift of his life poured out for our sake, by which he becomes one with us and we become one with each other.

    As we approach the Eucharist this evening let us take his words and his actions to heart, for together they show that love leads naturally to service. Christ has shown us the greatest love through the gift of his Body and Blood broken and poured out for our sake and at the same time that this is the love that allows us to see others not as things to be used but as people to be served.

  • A Fragrant Aroma: Monday of Holy Week

    John 12:1-8

    Awhile after my father died, my mother asked if I would help her sort out his things. As I took some clothes out of his dresser it struck me; they still smelled like him. It was as if my father was right there. It took me several minutes to regain my composure.

    Scientists have known for years that the sense of smell is intimately tied to memory and emotion. In fact, smell is the only sense that works directly with the area of the brain that controls emotions. We’ve all experienced it; no matter how far away or far removed we are from a certain time, the aroma of something – perhaps a certain food, a perfume – can bring it all back again. It is if we are there.

    In the gospel we see how one of the sisters of Lazarus gave to their home a sense memory of our Lord: Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil made from genuine aromatic nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair; the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil (John 12:3).

    This is significant on many levels. First, it is the perfect counterbalance to the family’s recent experience at the tomb of Lazarus; the foul air of death is literally blown away by the fragrance of new life found in Christ. But second, this perfume is costly; the price of victory is high. As if she senses that his enemies are as near as Judas and plotting his demise, Mary anoints not the head of Christ the King but the feet of Christ the Servant which shall soon be pierced with nails and placed in a tomb. Finally, it may seem odd that Mary wipes away some of the perfume with her hair but I see in it a sign of her devotion; a way to identify herself with Christ and his sacrifice, personifying St. Paul’s meaning in 2 Corinthians when he said, we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing (2 Corinthians 2:15).

    glass-4108085_640There is an ancient rabbinic saying that “the fragrance of a good perfume spreads from the bedroom to the dining room; so does a good name spread from one end of the world to the other.”1 As Mary filled her house and her hair with the fragrance of Christ, so may we fill the world and ourselves with his holy and glorious Name. And may be as untiring and devoted as she, willing to sacrifice whatever is costly to ourselves to do it. There is no greater identification with Christ than this, as St. Paul knew when he prayed that we may be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma (Ephesians 5:1-2).

    1Based on Ecclesiastes 7:1 and cited in Brown, R.E. (1966) The Anchor Bible: The Gospel According to John I-XII. New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., p. 453.

  • Mother and Baby: The Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord

    Isaiah 7:10-14; 8:10; Psalm 40:7-11; Hebrews 10:4-10; Luke 1:26-38

    Everyone knows the bond between a mother and her baby is special and that there is nothing in the world quite like it. But recently I came across some research that taught me things about it I didn’t know and that gave me new perspectives on the Blessed Mother.

    First, there is a physical basis to the phenomenon scientists call the “maternal instinct,” or others know as “Mommy brain.” Others like my older son who as a young child once inspected the back of his mother’s head, searching for the eyes hidden there. He wasn’t far wrong. During pregnancy a woman’s brain actually changes; areas related to the protection and nurturing of her baby develop as never before. This is nature’s way of attuning a mother to the needs and well-being of her children.

    It was no different for the Blessed Mother. From the moment the Holy Spirit came upon her and the power of the Most High overshadowed her (Luke 1:35), Mary began to develop the maternal instinct toward God himself. She alone among all women was to know the singular joy and tremendous responsibility of nurturing the Son of God; of protecting him from and preparing him for the world he came to save; of feeding him who thirsted for souls; and of providing a home for him who sought nowhere to lay his head except upon her breast, first as a helpless babe and then as a lifeless son taken down from the cross.

    It was from the cross that Christ raised Mary’s maternal instinct from the natural to the spiritual. With his words, Woman, behold your son (John 19:26) he gave her motherhood of his disciples, of all those like her who hear the word of God and do it (Luke 11:28). He made the bond complete when he told the Beloved Disciple, Behold, your mother (John 19:27), for in imitation of her Son we too have nowhere else to lay our heads. As her spiritual children we trust her, as he did, to see to our well-being and protection.

    The second thing I learned about the bond between mothers and babies is that children learn to recognize their mother’s voice in the womb and even prefer the language she speaks to any other they hear. By the time he was born, Mary’s voice was already very familiar to Jesus. And of course he prefers her language, for she speaks the language of total and selfless love. This is why we ask the Blessed Mother to speak to Jesus on our behalf; hers is the voice he heard from the time he was old enough to hear anything at all, the voice he could not refuse at Cana. Once again in imitation of him, Mary’s is the voice we too must not refuse, that says to us what it said to the servers at the wedding feast at Cana: Do whatever he tells you (John 2:5).

    Finally, I learned that perhaps the most important aspect of the bond between mother and baby is responsiveness. From the womb, mothers instinctively respond to the needs of their babies, giving from their own bodies whatever they have to give. This continues into childhood. Studies have shown that children thrive when their mothers respond to them in ways that foster growth and security; these especially include support and encouragement in difficult or stressful times. As Scripture makes clear, our Lord was no stranger to difficulty or stress, from his birth in a stable and flight into Egypt to his suffering and death on the cross. But Scripture also makes clear that Mary was with him at each of those times; in fact, she is the only one in all of Scripture to be present from his conception to his ascension. As such, Mary is the epitome of the supporting and encouraging mother.

    mother and baby

    One phrase in the readings perfectly summarizes the bond between Mary and her Son: I come to do your will (Psalm 40:8-9; Hebrews 10:7). For Mary this meant motherhood born of a love for God so deep that she, as Augustine once said, would conceive Christ in her heart before her womb. For Jesus it meant the Incarnation; a love so deep that he would take his own creation’s flesh and offer it back to his Father for the redemption of all who would accept him. Their obedience sets the pattern for us for we too are called to the same kind of obedience; to conceive Christ in our hearts; to offer to the Father the gift of ourselves in total dedication to Him; to love as Jesus and Mary loved. Without grace this is not possible, but this is the great hope of the Solemnity of the Annunciation, when the angel reminds us as he told the Fullness of Grace: nothing will be impossible for God (Luke 1:37).