http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/090812.cfm |
| Mary's image at Saint Meinrad |
I never forget the Birthday of Mary for I entered the minor seminary (high school) at Mount Saint Francis, Indiana on this day, a Saturday, fifty years ago. It was a long-anticipated, exciting day of new adventure for this thirteen year old boy. My parents brought me over, leaving the other children at home for this special occasion, and the three of us picnicked at a small roadside park a mile or two beyond the Mount, before they brought me in. I don't remember our conversation. Dad told me later that Mom cried all the way home. At thirteen I could not appreciate that, but a month later, when Visiting Sunday happened to fall on my birthday, October 7, I was awfully glad to see my family again. That may have been the longest month of my life.
Fifty years later, it is too late to say I have any regrets or that I don't have any regrets. My life has been very good and, as I find myself again stationed at Mount Saint Francis, I still feel like I am just setting out on the high road of adventure. I would not be surprised to find the second fifty years to be just as exciting, terrifying and fascinating as the first. If I was growing up then, I am growing old now. Which is easier?
All along the way I have known the companionship of Mary. We have a beautiful statue of her in our chapel. It's a traditional form; I believe it would be called "The Immaculate Conception." She is described as a young woman, apparently walking and treading on a snake. That image is complemented by the statue of Saint Francis on the other side of the chapel; he is treading on a bag of coins. The symbolism is obvious even to a teenager. Both have renounced the temptations that come with living in our world.
Francis will live in poverty sine proprio; Mary will live utterly without sin.
I began my seminary career kneeling with my classmates on her side of the chapel. I won't say I was overcome with lust but I noticed the fall of her dress over her left thigh. Teen-aged boys notice such things. For weeks on end that would be the only feminine image we ever saw, since there were no newspapers, magazines or television in the seminary. Even the National Geographic was censored!
I often prayed before her statue, asking her to guide me through the awakening desires and the many trials of adolescence; although I hardly knew the words for such a prayer. The friars helped us as best they could though the entire Church was entering its own trial of exciting fearfulness. The Second Vatican Council began on October 11, 1962, exactly 33 days after I entered. Not long after that we sat through the Cuba Crisis, when President Kennedy demanded that the Soviets remove their ballistic nuclear missiles from the Americas.
Within a few years I witnessed the changes in the liturgy here at the Mount. The presiding priest greeted us in English, "The Lord be with you!" And we responded, "And with your spirit!" (with two revisions since.)
The Mount seemed like a long way from home, but it was in many ways just like my home. We had three meals a day during which we chatted with our table companions; we studied daily; worked at various chores; and kept a regular schedule of prayer. I had known roughly the same schedule at home where we said the family rosary each evening, after we had finished our home work. In both places a statue of Mary heard our prayers and joined with us in praise of God.
To be Catholic is to know the constant, maternal affection of Mary. She can no more control what goes on in our lives than our earthly mothers. She must often witness our heartaches and disappointments; she must often recognize our sins and foolishness and remain silent. She must continually invite us back to the safety of our prayerful homes; and feel the "sword of sorrow" when we flee from prayer, home and her. Boys will struggle to become men under her affectionate gaze; and she will wait for us to realize we need the feminine not to satisfy our lust but to complete our manhood. There will be a world of hurt between our leaving home and our return to her hearth.
Finally she will welcome our embrace as we, like the Beloved Disciple John, take her into the new homes we have built for her. In that regard the twenty-first century will be just like that first century when she lived.
I am grateful to God for his gift of Mary to me. Hail Mary, full of grace....
Awesome! How inspiring! It is certainly hard to imagine you as a 13 year old boy, but even you must have been a squirrelly boy in an 8th grade class once upon a time. No wonder they sent you to the seminary. LOL.
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