When they saw this,
they made known the message
that had been told them about this child.
All who heard it were amazed
by what had been told them by the shepherds.
And Mary kept all these things,
reflecting on them in her heart.
Sometime after the Council of Ephesus (413AD) named Mary "Theotokos," that is “Mother of God,” Saint Augustine said of her, “She conceived the Lord in her mind before she conceived him in her body.”
In that respect she is the first disciple to hear and keep the Gospel. And we know her as Queen of the Lord’s Disciples. Saint Luke invites us to admire and emulate her; and we do so especially when we reflect on these things in our hearts.
We seem to live in an era of crisis. They come at us pell-mell, continually, incessantly, and always demanding our full unqualified attention. There’s not a minute to lose. Growing accustomed to this situation, we suffer a mentality of expecting crises. And then we generate them when they’re not necessary, or when we have nothing else to do. We worry if there is no crisis, as if we might be missing something.
The Gospel of Saint Matthew describes a crisis around the Birth of Jesus, as the worshipping magi had drawn King Herod’s attention to the children of Bethlehem. Joseph, preternaturally sensing danger, awoke his wife and infant child in the middle of the night and the trio fled to Egypt, where they stayed for twelve years.
Saint Luke, however, describes more contemplative events: the infant’s birth and lying in a manger, the shepherds’ amazement, the circumcision, presentation in the temple, and their annual pilgrimages to the holy, hospitable city of Jerusalem. All these Mary’s pondered in her heart.
Several years ago, I attended the ordination of a bishop with a contemplative nun. When I saw her a month later, she told me how impressed she was by the solemn rites. The music, rituals, and prayers had filled her mind for several days afterward. I had to admit I’d given it little thought; I’d come home that evening to watch television. I’d missed a beautiful opportunity to contemplate God’s sacramental presence in our Church’s liturgy. Consequently, my appreciation of the authority given to bishops would be less than it should be.
Our Catholic faith assures us that Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds had no advantage that we are not offered through the sacraments, especially of the Eucharist. God is no less present to us than he was to Jesus’ disciples. Mary shows us what we must do, reflect on these things. As we begin a new year amid another noisome set of crises, we should accept her invitation.
I was the oldest of ten children and I remember a frequent admonition in our house, “Hush, the baby’s asleep!” Let’s be quiet for His sake. He will teach us how to be disciples when we’re ready to be quiet.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.