Homily - The Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God - 1 January 2021

The Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God 

Dear brothers and sisters,

            As today we commemorate the Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God, we ought to remember that Our Lady was, mostly, a mother like any other. “At the beginning of a new year, we are invited, as it were, to attend her school, the school of the faithful disciple in the Lord, in order to learn from her to accept in faith and prayer the salvation God desires to pout out upon those who trust in his merciful love.”[1]

As all mothers do, the Mother of God experienced great joy at the Birth of her Son. And, as all mothers do, she worried about his future. Mary knew, as every mother knows, that 

Every child born into the world – every tiny, innocent, adorable little baby – however loved, however cared for, will grow up to face some kind of sorrow, and the inevitability of death. Of course no one wants to think about such things, especially when they look at a newborn baby; but pretending otherwise, not wanting to think otherwise, doesn’t make it any less true.[2] 

Mary must have contemplated her Son’s future, especially after hearing the words of Simeon, which we heard this past Sunday: “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted” (Luke 2:35). What did Simeon mean?

            During these days of Christmas, we do all that we can to keep everything joyful and cheery, especially in these days, and thinking about Mary’s sorrow, even with her joy, does not seem something we should be doing. 

Our images of Christmas joy, both secular and sacred, are all childlike wonder and picture-perfect families gathered round the tree. And this is nice, of course, for those who have children or happy families, but for those who don’t – those who have lost children or parents or others dear to them, those who face loneliness or exclusion, those who want but don’t have children, family, or home – it can be intensely painful. Not everyone can choose not to think about grief at Christmas; many people will find it intrudes upon them, whether they wish it or not.[3] 

The medievals, who often approached the world with greater honesty than we do, recognized this, and even knew it to be true of the Virgin Mother of God.

            We see this understanding in many medieval carols, in which, of course, we also find great mirth and gladness. The Franciscan friar, John of Grimestone, recorded many of these carols for us in the fourteenth century. One of these carols contains what are presented as deeply moving thoughts Mary sings in a lullaby to the Christ Child: 

Lullay, lullay, little boy, king of all things!

When I think of thy sad state, I hardly wish to sing;

But I may lament for sorrow, if love be in my heart,

For such pains as thou shalt suffer were never none so sharp.

Lullay, lullay, little child, no wonder that thou cry;

Thy body will grow pale and white, and then it shall grow dry.[4] 

Here already Mary is contemplating the death of her Son for us upon the Cross; she knows that her Son was born that man no more may die. She has a deep sorrow for him in her heart because, as she says, she always has a deep love for him in her heart; love and sorrow often go together, even at Christmas.

            Our Lady ends her mournful lullaby with this profound insight: “Lullay, lullay, little child, softly sleep and fast; / in sorrow endeth every love but thine, at the last.” Mary knows that while every other love will end, the love of her Holy Infant will endure; his love will never end. This is why she willingly her endured seven sorrows out of love for him and remained with him to the end (cf. Luke 2:35).

            Years later, from his Cross, “When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing near, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, behold your son’ (John 19:26)! That beloved disciple stood in for each of us, for we are all his beloved disciples if we remain near to him and to the Mother of God. What is more, in that moment, Jesus entrusted us to his mother. Mary, the Mother of God and our mother, will look after us, her children, with the same maternal love and care with which she looked after Jesus, if we remain near to her.

            As we enter into this new solar year with both concern and hope, let us entrust ourselves anew to the maternal care of our Mother. May she show us the Face of her Son, teach us to listen to him, and ask her Son to bless us with his peace. Amen.

---

[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 1 January 2006.

[2] Eleanor Parker, “‘Lullay, little child, rest thee a throwe,’” A Clerk of Oxford, 28 December 2014. Available at https://aclerkofoxford.blogspot.com/2014/12/lullay-little-child-rest-thee-throwe.html. Accessed 27 December 2020.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

 

Homily - 1 January 2019 - The Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

The Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

Dear brothers and sisters,

The secular celebrations accompanying New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day have always baffled me, in part because the designation of January 1^st as New Year’s Day is something of an arbitrary decision. More than a millennium ago, Aelfric of Eynsham observed this arbitrariness, saying:

We have often heard that people call this day 'year’s day', as the first day in the course of the year, but we do not find any explanation in Christian books as to why this day should be appointed the beginning of the year. The ancient Romans, in heathen days, began the calendar of the year on this day; the Hebrew people began at the spring equinox, the Greeks at the summer solstice, and the Egyptians began the calendar of their year at harvest. Now our calendar begins on this day, according to the Roman practice, not for any holy reason, but because of ancient custom. Some of our service books begin at the Advent of the Lord. However, that is not the beginning of our year; there is no reason for it being this day, although our calendars continue to put it in this place.[1]

Though we have chosen to follow the ancient Roman practice of observing the date of the New Year, it should not be forgotten that this falls in midst of the season of Christmas. As such, what seems arbitrary, might not be. Even so, there is something besides this seeming arbitrariness that baffles me about New Year’s Eve and Day.

Each year, many people make New Year’s resolutions. They do so with the full knowledge that they did not keep the resolutions they made the previous year. They also do so with the honest expectation that they will also not keep these new resolutions for more than a few weeks, at best. People know this, and yet they still make such resolutions every year; they expect to fail in their resolve, but hope they will persevere in their resolve. Is this not the very reason the Son of God was born of the Virgin Mary? Did he not become incarnate in her womb to save us from our sins? Did not he, the Bread of Life, allow himself to be placed in manger as a foreshadowing of the nourishment he would give to us to strengthen us in our resolve?

The ancient Anglo-Saxons observed the beginning of the New Year on December 25^th because of the newness that the Child of Bethlehem brought to earth. In other places, the beginning of the New Year was observed on March 25^th, also because of the newness that the Child of Bethlehem brought to earth when the Archangel Gabriel announced God’s plan for our salvation to the Blessed Virgin Mary. In both cases, the beginning of the New Year was seen as somehow connected to the mystery of Christmas, the mystery of God made flesh, the mystery of our salvation. Because our secular celebrations of the New Year have been so disconnected from the Church’s ongoing celebration of Christmas, she has placed this Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, at the beginning of the New Year as a way of calling us back to the joy of Christmas.

Because we too often celebrate Christmas well before Christmas has actually come, we miss an important aspect of what our forebears knew so very well.

The ancient custom was to fast in Advent in preparation for the feast, and then to celebrate for at least twelve days after Christmas (and to some degree, all through January). Now we do it the other way around; for many people the feast is followed by a penitential fast, in the form of 'Dry January' or New Year's resolutions about eating less and going to the gym. As a manifestation of the desire for a fresh start, this 'New Year, new you' impulse is natural enough, but it does strike me as strange that it's so often framed in negative terms. There's an odd sense, encouraged mostly perhaps by journalists and advertisers, that the indulgence of Christmas is a 'sin' which has to be atoned for - as if eating and drinking with friends and family, to celebrate the turn of the year from darkness to light, is a moral lapse for which one must subsequently make amends by privation and self-punishment. We are much less kind to ourselves in these weeks after Christmas than the strictest confessor would have been in the Middle Ages. Feasting at Christmas is not something to atone for, but a proper observance due to the season; and that feasting is also the sustenance we need to carry us into the New Year with energy and strength.[2]

Christians of centuries gone by looked to the new year with hope because they knew the joy that Christ Jesus brought with him, the joy he promises to those who unite themselves to himself (cf. John 15:11).

A quick glance at Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram last night seemed to suggest a great many people think the year 2018 had personally gone after them. It was, they said, a bad year and they could not wait to see what 2019 will bring. The presumption, of course, is that this new year will better than the old year, though no explanation was given as to why this ought to be. If we find ourselves thinking along these same illogical lines, it is good to remember what Saint Augustine said: “Bad times! Troublesome times! This men are saying. Let our lives be good; and the times are good. We make our times; such as we are, such are the times.”[3]

The year itself has been bad to no one; it has no personality and so cannot act against us or in our favor. Rather, it is we who shape the course of the year, by what we do and what we fail to do. This we too often forget. A lot of Christians in these United States of America grumble and moan about the course society seems to be taking. Too be sure, the trajectory does not look promising, but some 70% of Americans claim to be Christian.[4] If this 70% of the population would live like Christians everyday the course of society would dramatically alter overnight, and for the better.

If we want 2019 to be any different than 2018, we will need to keep alive within our hearts the memory of what those shepherds saw: “the infant lying in the manger” (Luke 2:16). This is why, at the beginning of this New Year, the Church urges us to turn our eyes to the Virgin Mother of God, to her who is also our Mother, and who kept all the events of the Birth of her Son in her heart (cf. John 19:27; Luke 2:19). As we lift our eyes towards her lovely face, we, as devoted children, say to her: “Turn, then, most gracious advocate, your eyes of mercy toward us, and after this our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of your womb, Jesus.” With the eyes of the Holy Child and of his Mother upon us, how can this new year be bad? Indeed, with their eyes upon us and ours upon theirs, how can any year bad?

As so many people look on the past year with displeasure, they would do well to remember that, as Saint Augustine reminds us,

…it is evil men who make this evil world. Yet as we cannot be without evil men, let us, as I have said, while we live pour out our groans before the Lord our God, and endure the evils, that we may attain to the things that are good. Let us not find fault with the Master of the household; for He is loving to us. He bears us, and not we him. He knows how to govern what He made; do what He has bidden, and hope for what He has promised.[5]

If we do, this new year will be filled with the joy and peace of Christmas, that of the Mother of God and of her Holy Child. Amen.

---

[1] Aelfric of Eynsham, Sermon for the Circumcision of the Lord. In Eleanor Parker, “A New Year’s Day Carol,” A Clerk of Oxford, 1 January 2011. Accessed 31 December 2018. Available at https://aclerkofoxford.blogspot.com/2011/01/new-years-day-carol.html.

[2] Eleanor Parker, “‘Wyle New Year watz so yet that hit watz newe cummen…,’” A Clerk of Oxford, 31 December 2017. Accessed 31 December 2018. Available at https://aclerkofoxford.blogspot.com/2017/12/wyle-new-year-watz-so-yep-that-hit-watz.html.

[3] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Sermon on the New Testament, 30.8.

[4] Cf. Pew Research Center, Religious Landscape Study. Accessed 31 December 2018. Available at http://www.pewforum.org/religious-landscape-study/

[5] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Sermon on the New Testament, 30.8.

Deacon Michael Friedel proclaims the Gospel at Papal Mass

A member of the clergy of the Diocese of Springfield in Illinois was chosen to proclaim the Gospel during the Holy Mass celebrated by His Holiness Pope Francis in the Basilica of St. Peter in honor of today's Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God.

It fell to Deacon Michael Friedel to chant the passage from the Gospel of Saint Luke in which the shepherds find the Holy Family just as the angel had told them (2:16-21).

You can see a few shots of Deacon Friedel during the entrance procession. The Gospel procession begins at 19:05. He did a very fine job!

Deacon Friedel is from Holy Angels Parish in Wood River, Illinois and is preparing for the priesthood at the Pontifical North American College in Rome. He will, God willing, be ordained a priest of Jesus Christ this spring. Please remember him - and all of our seminarians - in your prayers.

Homily - 1 January 2008 - The Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God

As the secular world begins a new year, Holy Mother Church concludes her celebration of Christmas Day by reflecting upon Mary and her role as the Mother of God.

As the world calls us to revelry and drunkenness, the Church calls us to contemplate the “King of heaven and earth” who is born in Bethlehem and adored by the shepherds.[1] With Mary, we, too, are called to “[keep] all these things, reflecting on them in [our] hearts” (Luke 2:19).

The Church honors Mary in a special way today at the conclusion of the eight-day celebration of Christmas because it is through her Son, Jesus, conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, that the Lord has had pity on us and blessed us (cf. Psalm 67:2). It is through the Virgin Mary’s Child that “the Lord has let his face shine upon [us]” (Numbers 6:25). It is through the Son of God and the Son of Mary that the Lord looks upon us kindly and gives us peace (cf. Numbers 6:26). It is through Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, “born of a woman,” that the blessing of Aaron – so loved by Saint Francis of Assisi – is fulfilled (Galatians 4:4).

We turn, then, to Mary today, giving thanks to God for giving Jesus – and us – so holy, so beautiful, so lovely a Mother. And as we look to Mary, she directs our gaze to her Son “lying in the manger” (Luke 2:16). Yet why is this holy Child found in a cave used as a stable? The “Bread of Life” (John 6:48) is laid in the trough “because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7).

“When the fullness of time had come” (Galatians 4:4), the Son of God chose to be born of a Virgin Mother so that the nations might “be glad and exult” (Psalm 67:5). The birth of the Christ Child was

the moment that Israel had been awaiting for centuries, through many dark hours – the moment that all mankind was somehow awaiting, in terms as yet undefined: when God would take care of us, when he would step outside of his concealment, when the world would be saved and God would renew all things.[2]

Is it any different today?

Are not countless people searching for God, even without knowing it? It takes but a glance around to see that people today continually search for happiness, for peace, for joy but never arrive at it.

A great many will be looking for such happiness tonight in their revelry. They will look around and search, but they will not look to the Child “wrapped in swaddling clothes” and so they will not find that which they seek because they have no room for him (Luke 2:7).

What joy must have filled Mary’s heart as she prepared to give birth to the “Son of the Most High” (Luke 1:32), the One whom Elizabeth recognized as the Lord (cf. Luke 1:43).

The questions and concerns she first raised to Gabriel at the announcement of so marvelous a birth have given way to a holy joy, a joy that was the preparation to welcome her Child. We see that

The swaddling clothes were ready, so that the child could be given a fitting welcome. Yet there is no room at the inn. In some way, mankind is awaiting God, waiting for him to draw near. But when the moment comes, there is no room for him. Man is so preoccupied with himself, he has such urgent need of all the space and all the time for his own things, that nothing remains open for others – for his neighbor, for the poor, for God. And the richer men become, the more they fill up all the space by themselves. And the less room there is for others.[3]

Mary stands before us today as the one completely open to God’s will and for this reason she is the Mother of God and Mother of the Church.

The Mother of Jesus and our Mother points us always to her Son lying in the manger. In doing so, she reminds us that “God does not allow himself to be shut out. He finds a space, even if it means entering through the stable; there are people who see his light and pass it on.”[4]

At the threshold of this new solar year, Mary invites and encourages us to enter it meditating upon the birth of the Savior, of the One who brings true and lasting peace. She directs our gaze to the face of God and asks us: “Will you make room for my Son?”

Together with the shepherds, let us go “in haste to Bethlehem” to find the Holy Family (Luke 2:16). Let us, too, listen to the proclamation of the angels: “a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord” (Luke 2:11). Let us beg the Son of Mary and the Son of God to bless us in this new year with his peace. Let us say to him: “May the peoples praise you, O God; may all the people’s praise you!” (Psalm 67:6). “Bless us, O newborn King. Let your face shine upon us and be gracious to us. Amen!”

[1] Introit of the day.
[2] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 25 December 2007.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.