We entered this Advent together as if wading into the sea, casting ourselves once again into the tidal rhythm of the liturgy that forms us like living stones. Our journey has given opportunity to reflect on the experience of God whose oscillating presence forms our hearts for authentic relationship. The experience of coming to know, accept, and give ourselves, made possible by being known by God in all our brokenness and beauty. The experience of allowing ourselves to decrease so that Christ can increase, to find our joy and hope in becoming transparent, lowly instruments of his power and goodness.
Our Constitutions describe the monastery as “a school of the Lord’s service where Christ is formed in the hearts of the sisters through the liturgy…” (C.3.2). Nowhere do we see this process so clearly as in Mary, whom our tradition calls a model for monks. Why is she such a model? Because she is watchful for the Word of God, receptive to it, brings it to term in her body and life, and so bears Christ to the world, and bears the world in Christ.
Let us look for a moment at how Mary receives the approach of the Almighty in the angel Gabriel. He greets her, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you” (Lk 1:28). Another translation has: “Rejoice, highly favored one.” Pope Benedict pointed out a surprising fact that the angel does not use the typical Jewish greeting, “Shalom”, “peace,” but rather the typical greeting of the Greek world: “Kaire”, “be glad, rejoice”. While musing on the reception of this by the Gentiles who would later hear it with joy, he also points out that the words of the angel echo the Prophet Zephaniah, who said to Israel: “Shout for joy, O daughter Zion!... the Lord is in your midst” (Zeph 3:14, 15). Pope Benedict feels sure Mary would have recognized that “she herself was the ‘daughter Zion’ of whom the Prophet spoke, and that the Lord, therefore, had a special intention for her, that she was called to be the true dwelling place of God, a dwelling place not built of stones but of living flesh, of a living heart, that God was really intending to take her, the Virgin, as his own true temple.” Certainly, a greeting to ponder upon!
The second word the angel speaks is: “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God” (Lk 1:29). Von Balthasar, when speaking of the contemplative vocation, uses this moment to illustrate the awesome weight of the call of God to one “destined to be mother of the eternal God, and, thus exposed before heaven and earth, answerable for all who dwell in them, conscious of [an] unshared, freely accepted responsibility … Once it was Mary alone who was thus placed, and there was no-one able to help her. For she was the archetype of the Church.” (p. 79). Pope Benedict too underlines the fearsome reality of the call but makes clear where the strength for such an undertaking comes from: “It was too heavy a burden for human strength to bear! But the Angel said: “Do not fear! Yes, you are carrying God, but God is carrying you. Do not fear! … We can fall, but in the end we fall into God’s hands, and God’s hands are good hands.” It is Mary herself who has the last word: “I am the servant of the Lord. Let it be done to me as you say” (Lk 1:38). “She said ‘yes’ to God’s great will, a will apparently too great for a human being; Mary said ‘yes’ to this divine will, she placed herself within this will, placed her whole life with a great ‘yes’ within God’s will, and thus opened the world’s door to God.”
What we are seeing here is a person who has allowed herself to be fully known, loved, and transformed by God. She does not understand everything that is happening, but because of the profound relationship she has with God, she believes, she entrusts herself to the overshadowing of the Almighty. In her, a door is opened for God to come into the world in a new and deeper way. In her, too, a door is opened for all those who seek the way to God. During this season we have sung to her daily that song of exquisite beauty, the Alma Redemptoris Mater:
Kind mother of the Redeemer,
who remain the open gate of heaven and the star of the sea:
help your falling people who want to rise,
you who bore your holy Maker, while nature marveled:
a Virgin before and after, receiving that ‘Ave’ from Gabriel’s mouth,
have mercy on us sinners.
The name Mary was interpreted by St Jerome to mean “star of the sea,” which combined with the title “gate of heaven,” situates her as a link between heaven and earth, between God and humanity. Mary is the star offering guidance to sailors and all of us who find ourselves disoriented, tossed by the waves of life. She is the gate opening a way to God for the dwellers of earth. She is kind, sensitive to our weakness; since she knows fear, perplexity, and pain, she is ready to help us stand firm in faith so that God’s overshadowing will come to completion in us as it did in her. On this Christmas Eve, let us entrust ourselves and the whole world to Mary in the words of Saint Bernard:
“Look to the star, call upon Mary … in danger, in distress, in doubt, think of Mary, call out to Mary. Keep her in your mouth, keep her in your heart. … Following her, you will never go astray. Asking her help, you will never despair. Keeping her in your thoughts, you will never wander away. With your hand in hers, you will never stumble. With her protecting you, you will not be afraid. With her leading you, you will never tire. Her kindness will see you through to the end. Then you will know by your own experience how true it is that: ‘the Virgin’s name was Mary.’”