The Assumption of Our Lady | Homily

If you happened to turn the news on this week, you will have seen mention of little else than the Olympic Games in Rio – the world is enraptured by this demonstration of human strength and success and we participate in an unadulterated
display of national pride. However, if you turn your eye for a moment from the glistening stadiums and sporting celebrities, you see a city divided. In one half of Rio – a Brazilian elite enjoy a life of luxury on the shores of Copacabana, basking in the power which money affords and the kudos of being an Olympic Host City; in the other half of the city, the Favelas, some of the poorest people in the world – often living without running water and electricity – with children caught up in the midst of brutal gang warfare.

Two completely different worlds – all under the shadow of the Corcovado Mountain and the iconic statue of Christ the Redeemer. While the world might be looking to the celebrities and stadiums and successes – the Redeemer is looking to the Favelas. The truth is, when you are seeking for God – we cannot look where the world looks for power – if you want to find the great things – look to the margins, to the poor, to the nobodies and you will find the children of God.

assumption-siena-di-sanoHere we turn to our Blessed Mother Mary, who we celebrate today. The Gospels tell us very little about Mary – but what they do make clear, as Mary herself says, is that Christ chose the lowliest of people as his mother.  When God takes on flesh he eschews the royal palaces and centres of imperial power and chooses Nazareth – that town about which the Roman world made jokes, ‘can anything good come from Nazareth?’. And when he’s seeking out a mother, he doesn’t choose a comfortable, married mother who’s had three children and knows what she’s doing. He chooses the least of women – a poor, unmarried girl from a backwater town in a backwater province of the Roman Empire.

‘Can anything good come from Nazareth?

This is the beauty and the poetry of the Christian faith – this is the mystery we celebrate every time we look to Mary and honour her as Mother of God. The power that fashioned the cosmos, that strung an infinite number of stars, the one who brought forth all life chooses to be born of Mary – he becomes one with us, and reveals his power in the weakness of a human life. Just imagine… that foetus, which grew silently in the womb of Mary; that newborn baby, nursed at her breast; that child who grew and learnt in her house – that child, completely dependent on his mother, is God. In the incarnation, we see that our God does not identify with the elites of the world but with the lowly – the power of God is known in self-emptying love; his is a power willing to become weak for the sake of others.

In Mary, God confirms his decision to be with the misfits and ne’er do wells of the world! God chooses to be in the midst of our ordinary, sinful, messy lives. Just as, from all the nations of the world, God chose the slave nation of the Hebrews, so now he chooses to be one with the human race in all its suffering, vulnerability and pain. The world tells us to stay away from the poor, the homeless, the convicts and the refugees – but it is God’s subversive activity to tell us to stand with them. God always stands on the side of the poor and asks us to do the same.

Yet, the Church not only celebrates today the unlikely choice of Mary as the Mother of God but also her final destiny – her being taken up into heaven to reign as Queen of the saints. Mary says, ‘from now on all generations will call me blessed’ – not just because she was involved in chapter one of the Gospel but because she faithfully follows Christ through all his ministry. She ponders the truth of the Gospel in her heart and can therefore be called the first and Mother of all Christians. She stands at the foot of the Cross and shares in the anguish of her Son as he brings the work of salvation to its climax – how could she forget Simeon’s haunting prophecy, ‘a sword will pierce your own heart also’. She remained faithful after the Crucifixion and, although the Gospels fail to give us any detail, was reunited with her Son on the Day of Resurrection and remained in prayer with the Apostles and received the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Today is the Easter of the Summer – the day we rejoice that Mary, who remained faithful to her Son throughout his ministry, has shared in the fullness of the resurrection. In Our Lady, we see the destiny of our human nature! We will be like Christ, with Mary, in glory, crowned with grace – this is the final destination of the pilgrim people of God and the assumption is proof that Jesus is faithful to his promise that he prepares a dwelling place for the human family in his Father’s house.

So, today, on this great solemnity of the Church – we have a twofold reason to rejoice! We rejoice because God has chosen what is weak in the world to shame the strong; what is poor in the world to shame the rich – that God always stands on our side, in all our vulnerability and sin.  And we rejoice because God has in store for us more than we can ask or imagine – a room in the Father’s mansion, a crown of glory – a heavenly country where we will be swept up with Our Lady into the life of the eternal Trinity.

Mary, assumed into heaven, Queen of the Saints, pray for the pilgrim Church on earth!

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The Basilica of the Assumption on Mount Zion

Fr. Jaques Hamel | Homily for Trinity C

God said, ‘this very night your life is being demanded of you.’tumblr_ob79mm9xNO1qfvq9bo1_1280.jpg

On Tuesday, the peace of the sleepy town of Rouen in France was shattered by the brutal murder of Fr. Jacques Hamel, an 86 year old Roman Catholic priest. As Fr. Jacques celebrated a quiet morning Mass, surrounded by four faithful old parishioners, teenagers claiming allegiance to ISIS stormed the Church and took Fr. Jacques and the four women hostage. Once inside, Fr. Jacques was forced to his knees and his throat was cut before the altar before the teenagers began a mock sermon.

This horrifying violence is the latest in a long series of terrorist attacks; France has been targeted 14 times in the last 2 years and in the past few months alone, there have been 164 attacks in the world. The stunning frequency of violence in our world shocks the very foundations of our freedom and leaves us reeling in the face of such absurd violence. Yet, for me anyway, the attack on Fr. Jacques feels particularly painful. This is a priest who was murdered at a quiet Eucharist in an unassuming Church – he was slaughtered in the place where the love of God is announced to the people of Rouen. Churches have always been thought of as places of sanctity and refuge – we read this throughout the Old Testament and in this country, until at least the 17th century, Churches were places of legal sanctuary under English Common Law.

Worse than that, this attack happened as the Church gathered together to celebrate the Eucharist and receive Holy Communion – just as we do this morning. On Tuesday Morning, Fr. Jacques arrived in Church to celebrate the death and resurrection of Christ – to distribute to God’s people the bread of life and chalice of salvation. And, when he was forced to his knees by his murders, he did not do so in supplication to these terrorists but in the presence of the author of life himself, to whom he was about to return.  At the altar, we draw near to Calvary – the sacrifice of Christ on the Cross – made present throughout the ages by this meal which Christ established as a memorial of his saving death.

I’m afraid that I have no time for the idea that Jesus is sacrificed on the Cross to appease an angry God. This makes God our enemy and not the one whose nature and whose name is love, as one poet put it. Instead, I believe that on the cross, Jesus absorbs all the violence and the sin that comes from humanity. He receives our blows, our punishments, our disdain – and, despite his innocence, refuses to answer back. On the Cross, the doctrine of ‘an eye for an eye’ is brought to an end – and, in its place, we see the reckless, overwhelming love of God displayed before our eyes.

In other words, the sacrifice of Christ on the cross and the sacrifice of our Eucharist this morning, is the non-violent absorption of human violence.  The ultimate offer of love in return for hate, even to the point of death. This is the horrendous price that peace is sometimes asked to pay. This is what makes the eucharistic sacrifice life-giving and not some historical death cult or stylised community gathering. And this is the sacrifice that Father Jacques was celebrating as he died. When the priest celebrates Mass, they stand in the place of eternal love who is Jesus Christ, and feed God’s people with Christ’s own body, blood, soul, Godhead and life.

This attack is, of course, an attack on a particular priest, in a particular Church, in a particular country but it is also an attack on all priests, all churches and all countries – it is designed to restrict our freedom and make us fearful. It was designed to strip us off our love. The history of Christianity is a history of martyrs – to follow the Crucified God is to stand opposed to the powerful human evils of greed, violence and sin. Tuesday’s attack, like Nice earlier this summer, was an attack on a country of peace – a place where you could expect to worship in safety in your local church, mosque or synagogue. For this reason, the British government have made funds available to keep churches and places of worship in this country safe.

However, we must remember that this is a house of God and we worship the God of love, the God who did not hide his face from the sin of humankind but made it his own on Calvary and died for love of us. Faith, hope and love cannot be cowed by the barbarism we have witnessed this week. Neither can we let this attack lead us to hatred or violence – Fr. Jacques was a great friend of many muslims and worked to support the building of a mosque in Rouen. After his murder, local muslims came out in great

numbers to pray alongside Christians for Fr. Jacques’ soul and to declare ‘we shall not be afraid’. We, as the Church of God in Mold, must work with our fellow Christians and people of all faiths to declare to the world the power of faith to bring hope from despair and to stand in solidarity when ISIS threatens our way of life.

The attack in France was an attack against civilisation and all faiths. But it was also an attack targeted on us particularly. These men meant to kill a priest of Jesus Christ and to take nuns and faithful people hostage. The terrorists underlined this by turning this murder into a ritual sacrifice of a Christian priest before the altar and the mock homily they preached. A Christian martyr is an icon of the Passion of Jesus – out of this act of sheer brutality comes a demonstration of perfect love. In dying in this way, Fr. Jacques bore witness to the love of God – who suffered evil rather than perpetrated it, the God who loved us so much that he gave his only Son to bring us life.

We meet for the Eucharist today in communion with Fr. Jacques and the countless others who have given their life for faith and hope and love. We gather at the altar to celebrate with Fr. Jacques in glory and all God’s people throughout the world the sacrifice of the Eucharist – where we are brought once more to the foot of the cross and gaze in love at the one who is Love. As the body of Christ is broken in the hands of Fr. Kevin today, let us pray that in and through the broken body of our Lord, humanity might find healing, wholeness and peace.

Amen.

 

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The Funeral of Fr. Jaques Hamel – the Cross lifted high in procession.

‘Great is thy faithfulness!’ | A Homily

I dedicate this post to William, my brother and friend, who has taught me so much about the wonder of the universe. Of your charity, pray for him as he sits his exams. 

Great is thy faithfulness! Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
all I have needed thy hand hath provided;
great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

For me, the most compelling theme of the Scriptures is also one of its most recurrent themes: the faithfulness of God to what he has made. This theme runs through the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures with remarkable consistency. Often, I think we forget that the word ‘covenant’, the most powerful word in both the Old Testament and in the New, refers to God’s faithfulness both to human beings and to the whole created order. The God we believe in is, above all else, a God who keeps promises. God’s absolute commitment to creation is the key stone to all we believe in, from the Exodus of Israel to the institution of the ‘New Covenant’ in the first Eucharist.

I think this theme can provide one answer to the vexing question of ‘what is the Church for?’ It would be very true to say that the Church exists to express, embody and genesis1-stainedglasscommunicate God’s faithfulness. We try to do this with human communities – the Church should be able to say to all people, ‘we’re not going away’, to say to the communities around us, ‘we are going to be faithful to you in your situation, in your joy and in your suffering’. Of course, the community arounds us includes the whole created order – being faithful to our human neighbours is intimately bound up with our faithfulness to creation itself. If we want to be God’s community of faithfulness – expressing, embodying and communication that absolute commitment of God to God’s world, which was once and for all made flesh in Jesus of Nazareth, we have to live out this faithfulness to all creation. We have to always ask ourselves: how do we demonstrate our fidelity to human need and suffering with fidelity to the created order of which are are a part.

How do the policies of our Church: from what coffee we drink after services to how we spend our money, communicate this faithfulness to things of the world. We are part of this world – part of the beautiful, interlocking and interweaving pattern of life which God creates. God didn’t just line up dominoes and push them over when creation happened – God creates, and holds in being at all moments, the literally indescribable web of forces and energies and presences that is creation in all its splendour. If you pulled any bit out of it, the whole thing would collapse. God’s faithfulness is indivisible – to creation as a whole, and to each human being in particular – it belongs to his creation.

I don’t think this a theme we hear about often enough in Church, but I think it makes sense to people. Reflecting on God’s faithfulness drives us back to the basic stories of Scripture. It leads us to God who, in Genesis 1, sees his creation and knows it is very good. It takes us back to God who promises never to destroy the world after the Flood. It points us to God who in the law of Moses declares that the earth will never be anyone’s property for ever that it is lent to us for a time. The land is God’s and that means none has absolute claim to possession. Reflecting on these themes from the earliest books of the Bible remind us that we, at least, have to learn to regard the very stuff on which we stand as something other than just property; something more than what we can stuff in our pockets and make use of.

The Church, both to her own members and to the world, needs to get better at communicating (in deed more than word) this basic theme and rhythm of Scripture – his faithful, constant gazing at creation in love.

All of this, for me, is summed up by a very well known passage in Julian of Norwich. A passage I reflect on most days, as I catch a glimpse of the small hazelnut I keep before an icon in my room. In one of her visions,

Julian-of-Norwich-iconChrist holds out to Julian his open hand with a little object in it the size of a hazelnut.
Julian asks, ‘what is it?’

And ‘it was answered, ‘it is all that is made’
and I marvelled that it did not fall away to nothing for it was so small.

And it was answered to me, ‘it lasteth and ever shall for God loveth it’

All that is made is shown to Julian as a tiny object in the hand of God, yet it is the object of absolute, eternal and unfathomable love and commitment. In that hazelnut is me and you and every person with whom we share this earth, along with the indescribable number of planets and stars. The Church has to live in such a way that loudly proclaims those simple words of Lady Julian: ‘it lasteth and ever shall for God loveth it.

Amen.

The Church in Acts and Beyond

These are unformed thoughts following the consulation today over the possibility of unifying Mission Areas (like CofE Deaneries) into large single parishes… 

Peter and the apostles answered, ‘We must obey God rather than any human authority. The God of our ancestors raised up Jesus, whom you had killed by hanging him on a tree. God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Saviour, so that he might give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit’ – Acts 5, set for today.

This Sunday in St. Mary’s, Mold we held our Annual Vestry Meeting, at which was discussed, amongst other things, the future pattern of ministry in the Diocese of St. Asaph. We were consulted on the possibility of converting Mission Areas into (effectively) very large parishes, with a priest leading a large team across as many as 15+ churches. I expressed my serious concerns about this move in the meeting, but thought it was interesting to bring all this to bear on ecclesiology (the theology of the Church). Fittingly, the reading for this Sunday included Acts 5.27-32, which I will use as the basis of my discussion.

The Acts of the Apostles is, I think, one of the least well understood books of the New Testament, it is quite long and appears to be a jumble of stories about the early days of the Church with little to unify its narrative. However, to begin to find “the message of Acts,” one must understand it as complimenting and extending the Gospel of St. Luke, clearly written by the same person, and thus its purpose is to testify to the lasting effects of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. The resurrection of Christ, proclaims the Acts of the Apostles, is an event with real world consequences – the resurrection changes people’s lives and it changes the world. The Book of Acts reminds us of the transforming power of the resurrection, which continues to gain momentum in history in the life of the Church. The Church, as Acts understands it, is much more than an institution or social club – the Church, quite literally, is the power of Christ’s resurrection unleashed into the world. Acts presents the Church with a straightforward mission statement: to imbue the world with the divine life, known in the presence of the risen Lord Jesus.

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Pentecost: the sending of the Holy Spirit to give power to the Church.

Today’s reading from Acts 5 is making this exact point. Note how the  apostles are descried as continuing to do the kind of wonderful and miraculous things which Christ himself did. In other words, the Church continues the mission of Christ in the world – what he did, his disciples must do. Acting in Jesus’ name, a common theme in Acts, means acting like Jesus himself.

This Biblical vision of the Church, proclaimed in this reading at the Eucharist today, challenges the status quo which sadly seems to prevail amongst many, that the Church is merely an institution that is expected to provide faith based services to its members. In this false (but common) construal of the Church, being a Christian is reduced to being a passive recipient of services provided by the employees of a religious corporation. In this institutional pseudo-Church, no divine life is necessary and the power of the resurrection is effectively absent.

This is not the Church, in fact it is really an anti-church. The true Church, in communion with the apostles, is one where the disciples of Jesus are willing to take the great risks that come when you seek to continue the mission of the Crucified Christ – there is much danger, but also true joy, in seeking to accomplish in our own place and times the very things that Christ accomplished in first century Palestine.

The Christian faith professes that Christ really and truly died and that he is now really and truly alive. The resurrection is categorically not a metaphor or a symbol, it is not a feeling or an idea, it is a real, historic event – an event that changes history and gives us hope that, despite the awful mess that the world is often in, God is working his purpose out. God in Christ has the power to set things right and that despite the fear-filled shadow of death into which we must walk, he is a light that is cast into the dark. The power of Christ is revealed in his resurrection and the Church which springs from this great moment.

So, what does this have to do with the way the Church in Wales is structured in 2016? In short, everything.

The Church, if it is to be true to its history as it is shown to us in the Acts of the Apostles and beyond, must be a place where the power of Christ’s resurrection is experienced and given concrete expression. A place where the things Christ did are repeated: where God is worshipped; bread is broken; new life is experienced; and the world healed: the Church must be a place where the sick find peace, the sinner finds pardon, the marginalised finds home. If it cannot do this, it is not the Church of Christ.

My fear for a system in which a single priest is called to administer a vast number of parishes is that the life-giving power of Christ will not be known – we will be a Church where the Eucharist, the source and summit of the resurrection life, is not celebrated and churches are left fighting just to keep the roof on and have no time/energy to continue Christ’s work of ministry in the world. I believe that the existing model of a parish gathered around the celebration of the Eucharist, led and encouraged by their parish priest, has the potential not only to save the Church institution but also to transform the world.

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The ordination of Fr. Sam Erlandson to the priesthood by Bishop Gregory of St. Asaph

By having a stipendiary priest in every parish (even if that means multiple churches) is not about the parish priest doing everything and everyone else just receiving her ministry – it means that the parish priest can minister to the congregation, celebrating the Mass and preaching the Gospel, so that people are inspired to go out and minister to the world. The congregation, encouraged and equipped by the priest, can do the things our Lord did: visiting the sick, reading and studying the scriptures, praying for all people and working to build the Kingdom in our communities and the world. This is the ancient pattern of the Church: the Bishop, successor to the apostles, ordains and sends out priests to celebrate the sacraments, preach the gospel and encourage the diverse congregations of his/her diocese and these priests encourage others to go out and minister to the world around. This is the ecclesiology of Acts and remains the wisdom of the Church throughout the ages.

I fear that the alternative is a bland and admin-focussed order of priests, who are not called to equip or inspire but principally to make sure the multitude of churches in his care are able to get by another year. Where is the glorious power of the resurrection? Where is the bold and faithful proclamation of the Gospel? Who is the priest called to be in this context?

The Church does not need to be fearful of the future – we have the great hope of the resurrection – we are Christ’s body in the world and we must do the things we saw him do and obey no human authority. Our authority is Christ, who commands us to love and serve the world, announcing the forgiveness of sins and the coming of a new age.

The Lord is God; he has given us light
link the pilgrims with cords
right to the horns of the altar.
You are my God and I will thank you
you are my God and I will exalt you. – Psalm 148, set for today. 

On Everyday Sainthood

There was once a great Saint who, realising that God was calling him to a life of silent contemplation, became a hermit in a cave in the wilderness and hoped to live out his calling in mystical communion with God. Eventually, as the world so often All-Saints-for-Podcastdoes, he was forced out of his quiet retreat and founded a monastery to house all the people that sought him out for spiritual direction. After years of austere monastic life, with the recitation of the Daily Office, celebration of the Divine Eucharist and being profligate in all good works, he asks God a simple question, ‘Lord, am I the holiest man in all the world?’ God responds with a visionary experience, and he is taken in the Spirit to the local city, where he is guided to look through a window and he sees a humble, unintelligent and simple old man washing and preparing vegetables for dinner, as he did everyday. And God said to him, in the Spirit, ‘Behold, the holiest man in all the world.’ 

I am grateful for Fr. Robert who preached in Little St. Mary’s, Cambridge about this story recently, as it has sparked all sorts of reflection and prayer for me on the nature of sainthood and the call to sanctity which all Christians share. The story is a stark reminder that holiness is not the preserve of the religious elite; of those who devoutly pray the office or who devote all their time and study to holy things. Sanctity belongs, by God’s grace, to the ordinary people who, often in quiet ways, show something of God’s loving grace and kindness to the world. Of course, the Daily Offices and the Mass are sanctifying but God does not restrict his sanctifying power to those who, let’s be honest, often by luck, are able to participate in the holy things of the Church. If, as St. Paul tells the Ephesians, God is an artist and we are his works of art (Eph. 2.10), then all people are masterpieces of that cosmic artist from whom all being and beauty flow. In often quiet and unrecognised ways a myriad people go about revealing the holiness and love and grace of God. In the midst of messy, complicated human lives, a little of the divine light shines out and illuminates the world. They are like fireworks who, although of incalculable diversity, each bear witness to a different aspect of the One who sets them alight. We see this in those named saints who we know and love: in Mary’s sacrificial love we see a glimpse of God’s love for us; in St. Joseph’s faithfulness to Jesus and Mary we begin to comprehend God’s faithfulness; and the list could go on, but God is also manifest in the lives of countless thousands who remain unnamed and who have touched our lives personally.

I think of the stories told about my great grandmother, Nora Herron, whose self-sacrificing, practical faithfulness to the Church, her family and to the Lord whom she loved with childlike simplicity of heart, bears witness to the God who created her and called her and in whose arms she will dwell for eternity. There are glimpses of holiness all around us, we need only open our eyes and see. I often think to myself that Nora’s daughter, my nana, Maureen, reveals something of the tender love of God when she prepares the altar for the Wednesday Mass on Tuesday evenings. With devotion and gentleness, she lays out the sacred vessels and prepares the cloths, ensuring everything is perfect, not with irritable fastidiousness but with pure love for the One for whose revealing this altar is prepared. Open your eyes and the holiness of God is alive in the world around us, as well as in that glorious company who surround our steps from heaven. It this vast innumerable company of which it is said ‘the world is not worthy’, they are strangers and sojourners in this world, although fully committed to it, as their true home is with God eternally and they reveal something of the world to which their citizenship belongs in the everyday comings and goings of their life.

There is no criteria of perfection to be a saint, so if we’re looking for perfect people as examples of living saints, we will be looking forever. Saints, living and departed, are those in whom God’s glory is manifest and visible: I would count my dearly departed great grandmother in their company, as well as countless others who have challenged, inspired and enkindled my faith by revealing something of God to me. We profess Sunday by Sunday that the essence of our faith is that God the Son took flesh in Jesus Christ, and he continues to become incarnate in his disciples today but, if we believe that the Son of God could be found in a stable, homeless in Nazareth or even on a cross, we must be prepared to look for those in whom he incarnates himself today in very unlikely places. In our local shop, in the homeless shelter, on the sofa next to us, and even, despite everything, in our churches.

May all the Saints, known and unknown, pray for us
That we to might be made worthy of the promises of Christ

Of your charity, dear reader, pray for the soul of Nora Herron, a practical saint.

Homily: The Assumption of Mary

‘Gaze on Mary’
Preached in St. Mary the Virgin, Mold

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Silvestro de Gherarducci – Assumption of the Virgin (c.1350)

In nomine…

It took me quite a while to come to terms with Mary. I couldn’t understand the point of fostering a relationship with Jesus’ mother, I wasn’t even sure you could foster such a relationship! Of course, I loved Mary, her ‘yes’ to God had inspired my own vocation; her quiet pondering fascinated me; and her pain at the foot of the Cross moved me… but, I thought, this was as far as it could ever go. But then, one Sunday morning, gazing up at this very statue of Our Lady, I felt so certain of Mary’s maternal love for me, I felt so powerfully in her gaze, that I was forced to rethink my relationship with the Mother of God – I’d like to share with you this morning, the results of my pondering as best I can.

Mary “is an echo of God” – St. Louise-Marie

The most common way I hear people attempt to discourage and belittle Marian devotion is to say that it distracts from the worship of Jesus… they say that she takes away from her Son! I’ve realised that the people who say this are only ever those who have never spent any time with the Mother of God. In the words of St. Louise-Marie, Mary “is an echo of God” she speaks and repeats only God, “if you say ‘Mary’ she says ‘God’”. In a sense, Mary and her Son are like the moon and the sun – everything about Mary draws our attention to Christ, her splendour and blessedness are the gifts of her Son, just as the moon only shines because it reflects the Sun’s light. The sun is the superior light, because without it the moon would never shine. For those of you, like me, who like to watch the night sky – you’ll know that you can stare up all night at the moon, while the sun’s intensity is overwhelming. So it is with our Lord, he is so wonderful, mysterious, beautiful and glorious that sometimes his presence is so awesome and powerful that we feel we must withdraw because of our unworthiness and his holiness. Not so with Mary… with the Lord’s Mother, we can gaze on her as we gaze on the moon, seeing in her the reflected light of her Son and learning to love God in the same obedient and beautiful way which Mary teaches.

It is because of this that the early Church Fathers believed Mary to be foreshadowed in the burning bush – she shines with the presence and power of God but is not consumed by that power. We learn from her that the closer we are to God, the more truly we are ourselves – God elevates and enlightens me and you, he makes us fully alive, which is being fully ourselves, God never forces us to be anything we’re not. Within Mary, in the most tangible and literal way, Christ was alive – yet she is not overwhelmed or suppressed by Christ’s dwelling in her, she is made luminous and glorious, she is made the Mary she was meant to be.

This is why, in the midst of her pregnancy, when she has been overshadowed by the Holy Spirit and is now the dwelling place of God, she is able to cry ‘my soul magnifies the Lord’ – her soul is made glorious because Christ dwells within her.

Our Lady became transparent to God’s love in that moment when she accepted the Angel’s call – known as the moment of her fiat. The moment she says, ‘fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum’, ‘let it be to me according to you word’. At that moment Mary becomes pregnant with God’s own life. In a related way, all of us, the Church of Christ, when we accept God’s Word, God’s life takes root in us. Here, Mary teaches us an important lesson, the new life Jesus promised comes only with radical trust in God. It is at the limits of our strength, the limits of what we can do as humans, that is where God acts – it’s when we open ourselves to God that the divine life breaks in and God’s life is born in us.

Here then is the challenge which our pondering of Mary’s life puts to us – we are called to follow the example of the Blessed Mother. Elizabeth says of Mary, ‘blessed is she who believes’ – this is the reason for Mary’s glorification, because she believed! We then must have faith like Mary! Our Lady shows us that there is space in our human nature to bear the reality of God – we can be vessels of God’s light and life to the world. St. Gregory and Bishop Lindsay are fond of calling Mary “the container who contained the Uncontainable!” – but we too are containers which can contain the fullness of God… at this altar Christ gives the fullness of his being to us, at Baptism we are born again with the fullness of God’s Holy Spirit. You and me are containers of the uncontainable God – temples of the Holy Spirit – and Mary teaches us what it means to respond to this reality with faith and hope and love.

Then we come to our reading on this solemn feast – Jesus, on the Cross, uses his dying moments to give us, his beloved disciples, his Mother – to entrust us into her care and to unite us as one family in him. The angel called her ‘full of grace’ in the beginning of the story, but now we realise that this grace she has is for you and for me – Mary does not jealousy store up grace and blessings for herself, she is our Mother and she ministers grace to us throughout our life and at the hour of our death. Mary then is the summation and overflow of all that is best in our redeemed humanity – to draw near to Mary in prayer only leaves us better, leaves us nearer to her eternal Son who made our human nature his own in Mary’s womb. Our Lady’s heart at this solemn moment on the Cross was widened to include all of us who receive life from his Cross, she is fully transparent to the tender and maternal love of God. Another quote of St. Gregory says that Mary, that container who contains the uncontainable, “is the treasury and overseer of the riches of the Godhead”.

So, in Mary we see what we can be and we find the sure support we need to be true disciples of Jesus Christ. And, on this Feast of the Assumption, the day the Church celebrates that Mary has been taken up into heaven to live forever with her Son, we see the destiny of our human nature. We will be like Christ, with Mary, in glory, crowned with grace – this is the final destination of the pilgrim people of God and the assumption is proof that Jesus is faithful to his promise that he prepares a dwelling place for the human family in his Father’s house.

So, my dear friends and fellow children of Mary, gaze on Our Lady as you gaze the moon – see in her the pattern of grace which God longs each of us to follow and find in her a faithful friend in your journey of discipleship.

Amen.