When God Calls: Part II

The Call of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Daughter of Abraham
Luke 1:26-56

Giovanni Lanfranco, "The Annunciation" (c 1620)

The call of God to Mary has much in common with the call of Abraham.  In exchange for consent to God’s will, God also promises Mary many things in return.  Here also, God calls for Mary's consent to something that is beyond human understanding and reason. The promise of a child to Mary also stood in stark contradiction to her life and her circumstances. As a true daughter of Abraham, Mary is also called to great faith.

But while there are great similarities to note, there are also marked differences.  Abraham did not come to know God until he was 75 years old.  From her childhood, Mary's life was one that was dedicated to prayer and service to God in the Temple.  Abraham was old and his wife was barren. Mary was a young virgin, and the child that God promised her through the words of the Angel Gabriel had not been sought or hoped for.  But the greatest difference between Mary and Abraham lies in how Mary responded to her call. 

In the case of Abraham, his initial response to God was one of silent and unhesitating obedience to leave his home for one unknown.  It was only later, as time passed, that he began to question God, asking Him where was the child that He promised, and how can you make a great nation of me when the only heir I have is one of my servants?  He also acted on his own initiative and lack of faith, in particular when he deceived the Egyptians about the identity of Sarah as his wife, and when he consented at her urging, to beget a child, Ishmael, by her handmaid, Hagar, rather than patiently waiting for the Lord to fulfill His promise for a true heir from his wife's womb.

Mary, on the other hand, was a woman of unwavering faith.  In fact, her faith seemed to increase as God called her to greater and greater trust in the face of greater and greater uncertainty and suffering.  Mary’s initial response to the greeting of the Angel (“Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you.”) was one of astonishment and even fear, for surely Mary knew immediately with the Angel’s declaration that “the Lord was with [her],” that this was a call from God out of the quiet, hidden life she had always known, to something public and extraordinary.  But when the Angel tells Mary, “Do not be afraid,” she obeys.  When the Angel tells her that she is to bear a child, and that this child will be great and holy, she believes.  Her question, “How can this be, since I have no husband?” was an admission of her inability to understand as a mere creature, this great and seemingly impossible thing that God would do.  But unlike Abraham, who believed upon the reassuring word of the Lord that his descendants would be in number like the stars, but later gave in to doubt when he consented to beget a child by Hagar, Mary’s response of “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.  Let it be to me according to your word” was spoken once and for all.  It was the profession of a perpetual vow to obey and follow the call of God, making no protest, but always responding in silent obedience, “keeping all these things in her heart.” 

For Mary, the call to be the mother of the Messiah meant a complete change in her life, and in her identity.  As a woman pregnant and not yet wedded, she was subject to shame and scandal, even stoning, first in the eyes of Joseph, her betrothed, and also surely in the eyes of the community.  From the moment the Word was made flesh in her womb, and forever thereafter, Jesus’ very existence, His very identity, directly affected Mary—and not only Mary.  Through Mary, beginning in her visitation to her kinswoman Elizabeth, that same existence and identity of the child in her womb already began to change and sanctify the world.  For Elizabeth, Mary was no longer her kinswoman, but became, “the mother of my Lord,” and by merely being present as that mother, sanctified and filled the child in Elizabeth’s womb with the Holy Spirit.  And as Elizabeth further declares, Mary was blessed above all women, as “she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.” (Luke 1:45)

When God Calls: Part I

Václav (Wencelaus) Hollar, "God Calls Abraham"

The Call of Abraham (Genesis 12)

The overarching theme of the book of Genesis is one of the Lord as Creator; of the One with Whom all things are possible (cf. Matthew 19:26), as the One Who makes all things out of nothing. He fashions us, humankind, after His own image and likeness, and gradually over time, in spite of our refusal to His invitation to life with Him, the Lord begins through His call to Abram--whom the Lord would rename "Abraham"-- to fashion us into a nation, a people, and ultimately on earth into the Body of Christ, destined in eternity to be nothing less than His bride!

Just as the Lord called Adam and Eve into being, the call of Abraham is nothing less than a call to life and to covenant with the Lord. The Lord asks much of Abraham: to obey His command to leave the land and the people he has known all of his life. But the Lord promises in return infinitely more than what He asks. The Lord promises Abraham, who is 75 years old, something beyond human reason: his wife, Sarah, is also old and is barren, yet the Lord promises Abraham an heir, and to make of him through that son “a great nation.”

Abraham was called to leave his land and his people—and to set off for an unknown land. While he did not go alone, taking his wife, his nephew Lot, his servants, and all of his possessions, at his age, Abraham would hardly be able to defend himself and those with him if anyone should attack them on the way. Did he at his age have the strength even to make a journey of an unknown length, and then to resettle wherever his journey eventually took him?

Nevertheless, Abraham’s response to the Lord's command was one of immediate obedience, without question. There is no specific statement on what motivated Abraham, but it is clear that he, like Noah before him, took God at His word. When Abraham set out on the journey, he knew God only through His voice, in the hearing of a command. Later, God appeared to Abraham, to specifically tell him that it was the land of the Canaanites that God would give to him and to his descendants. Abraham's response was in kind: to build an altar; to offer sacrifice and worship to the God who had revealed Himself to Abraham. Again later, Abraham builds another altar, this time initiating the relationship, in calling upon the name of the Lord. As part of his journey ever closer to the land which God has promised, Abraham also draws closer to the Lord, eventually putting aside his doubts and fears and attaining an ever greater faith and trust in the Lord as his provider.

Václav (Wencelaus) Hollar, "God Promises Abraham"

The call of the Lord completely changed Abraham's life and his destiny-- because Abraham said "yes," acknowledging the Lord as God. Before receiving the Lord's command to leave his land and his people, Abraham likely lived a very predictable life, one to which he had likely resigned himself. His wife was barren, and we can well imagine that Abraham mourned this, but on some level had accepted it, perhaps living a life of “quiet desperation.” But now, on his journey with God, Abraham lived a life full of uncertainty and anxiety--- but also, for the first time, one of great expectation and hope!

Open Wide the Doors to Christ!

Gustave Dore, "The Burial of Jesus"

A Reflection on The Burial of Jesus
and the Guard at the Tomb: Matthew 27:57-66

It was evening. Soon, it would be the Sabbath. As would Your priest, who in silent, reverent awe places the Holy Eucharist in repose, your disciple Joseph of Arimethea wrapped Your body in clean linen and laid it in a newly-hewn tomb. Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary” remained, even after Joseph secured the tomb’s entrance and departed. The women remained, sitting there, facing the tomb, as though paying homage and adoration to the Body of their Lord, which they had beheld with their own eyes as broken for them. Soon it would be the Sabbath, the day of repose, but they remained—because there, in repose, was the Lord of the Sabbath!

Joseph of Arimathea was a rich man, and this was to have been his tomb. One can imagine that only a rich man could have afforded such a luxury. First, there would have been the cost of the land, and then payment of the wages for the many hours of hard labor needed to dig out such a tomb. To the many poor, surely such a purchase would have seemed a waste, as did the costly perfumed oil poured out upon You in Bethany. They could never fathom paying in advance for a tomb hewn out of rock, because everything they earned day by day by the sweat of their brows went into just scraping out a living—with the intent of putting off for as long as possible the inevitable need for their burial.

Joseph was a rich man, but he was also Your devoted disciple. You taught that it is hard for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of heaven; that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle. But Joseph was living proof, as You also taught: that, for God, all things are possible. As one who had heard and received You as his Messiah, did Joseph, as he laid Your body in his tomb, indeed understand that You had died in his place? And after placing Your body in the tomb, did he then leave to return home, not just to prepare for the Sabbath, but also to await in hope for Your promised resurrection?

Lord, as at the burial of Your body by Joseph, You continue to trust the care of Your Body to us in the Most Holy Eucharist—but are we, like Joseph, truly your devoted disciples in our regard for this gift of Yourself? What did it cost Joseph to claim Your body from Pilate? Money? Loss of reputation? Even future suspicion and persecution? Are we willing to bear all the costs of claiming to the world that the Eucharist is indeed Your Body? Or do we, like the unbelieving chief priests and Pharisees, in effect call You “impostor;” insisting that the Sacred Host is not truly Your Body, but “only a symbol?”

In placing a guard around the tomb and securing it as best they could, did Pilate and the chief priests and Pharisees believe that doing so could actually prevent what they most feared: Your resurrection? Have we also so hardened our own hearts until they are like stones, and have we placed a guard and seal over them to try to secure them against Your triumphant entry? May we instead believe what we see, and instead heed the words of the angel of the Lord spoken at Your empty tomb, recapitulated time and again in our own time by Blessed John Paul II: “Do not be afraid!” May we, in removing the fear, remove the guard and the seal, and let you roll away the stone, and do as Your Vicar bade us: may we “open wide the doors” to You, so that You may enter triumphantly into our hearts, our lives, our world!

The Death of Jesus

James Tissot, "The Death of Jesus"

A Reflection on Luke 23:44-49

It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down the middle.

Jesus cried out in a loud voice, " Father, into your hands I commend my spirit; " and when he had said this he breathed his last. The centurion who witnessed what had happened glorified God and said, "This man was innocent beyond doubt ." When all the people who had gathered for this spectacle saw what had happened, they returned home beating their breasts; but all his acquaintances stood at a distance, including the women who had followed him from Galilee and saw these events.

The sun, the Son! The “Light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel,” (Lk 2:32) eclipsed by death at the height of the day, in the prime of life, at the height of His ministry! Just a few days earlier, He had been proclaimed King by the people, riding triumphantly into Jerusalem as they glorified God!

The veil of the temple is torn wide open: God is no longer hidden from man. The Father Himself tore the veil in His haste in running out to meet us (Lk 15:20); He is pleased to give us the kingdom! (Lk 12:32) The Son’s eclipse reveals the Father, to Jew and Gentile alike.  The people whom Jesus excused because they did not know what they were doing (Lk 23:34) are suddenly filled with great remorse at His death. (Lk 23:48) Even the eyes of a Centurion—a pagan, who had surely carried out and witnessed countless crucifixions (the expression, “I’ve done this so many times, I could do it with my eyes closed,” comes to mind)—are opened!

Dearest Lord Jesus, you poured out Yourself completely in loving obedience to the Father. You even gave the Father the moment of your death; it was the only thing You had left to offer Him, making it the last act of submission of Your human will, the final prayer of utter trust and dependence, of unspeakable love You could offer, while You still had the powers of speech that the body He gave you possessed. I cannot fathom how, Lord, after hours of agony on the cross and at the point of death, You had the strength to fill Your lungs with enough air to be able to cry out, let alone utter a sound! How ashamed I am that I often let the least amount of bodily fatigue or stress keep me from just a moment of prayer! It is especially in these moments of affliction that I, too, should be crying out to Him in faith with complete trust!