The Magnificat

Magnificat
Pete Gdula, December 20th, 2009
For as many times as I’ve dreamt of or imagined doing a sermon on the Magnificat, it would seem as though the words would have flowed from my soul through my heart, into my mind, and out onto the paper. The foundation was formed long ago. As a young boy donning the cassock and surplice of an Altar Boy, and growing up in a devout Roman Catholic family whose traditions were steeped in the eastern European regions of Hungary, Slovakia, and Poland, I was no stranger to having the scent of incense permeate our best clothes for the remainder any given Sunday afternoon. The sound of Sanctus Bells would echo through my mind as I recalled the elevation of the bread and cup during the consecration. And at times I still recall the wondrous voices of prayer as we sang out “Hail Holy Queen, Mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness and our hope.” Pictures of the Sacred Heart of Mary greeted me on the walls of ours and all of my relative’s houses. Statues of her graced every church I remember visiting as a child, as did chapels, shelves, recesses, and gardens (just as one does in my back yard). And of course the Ave Maria was sung with expected reverence at every wedding I attended. To find these things, along with “Hail Mary” prayers, missing from various places as I grew up and moved on with my life’s journey, seemed to me in some ways to be lacking respect for a particular type of Motherhood. A kind, warm Motherhood that I had grown so accustomed to having known all of my life. Perhaps the need for the tender and unconditionally loving maternal qualities that compliment the paternal aspects of the church and humanity were what I had missed from time to time while visiting various places of worship. It may also be for this self declared student of St Benedict the necessary balance that gives unity to my attempt at living into Jesus Christ. After much wandering and redirection by God’s gentle (but persevering) voice, I’ve found great liberty and acceptance as an Episcopalian, being able to display my admiration for Mary in public. The most obvious place is in having the option of reciting the Magnificat every day as the canticle for Evening Prayer.
While the chapter and verses that include this canticle are one of only seven times Mary speaks in the New Testament, it is huge how the nature of her accepting her role in the will of God makes me step back in awe and wonder at her humbleness in an act that is to me, sacramental. It is as natural as it is mysterious. It is as profound as it is simplistic. It is as divine as it is human. There is as much strength as there is gentleness. And it grasps the words of the prophets from centuries past and finally, delivers not only the Son of God, but a perfect model of the emptiness and poverty that a soul can be in to accept Christ into our own hearts as completely as she did.
The contemplative Cistercian Monk, poet, peace advocate and author Thomas Merton was a very big devotee of Mary. In his book, New Seeds of Contemplation, Merton expounds on this humility and emptiness as a true contemplative would by referring to her as we hear in the canticle how God has “looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. He says:
“…that having nothing of her own, retaining nothing of a “self” that could glory in anything for her own sake, she placed no obstacle to the mercy of God and in no way resisted His love and His will … He was able to accomplish His will perfectly in her, and His liberty was in no way hindered or turned from its purpose by the presence of an egotistical self in Mary … She was then a freedom that obeyed Him perfectly and in this obedience found the fulfillment of perfect Love.”
Unfortunately our humanity does present the possibility of having ego get in the way of determining how we think others should be fulfilled in perfect Love and how we receive Christ. We know that language can be a barrier, especially when we try to translate not only between languages but between centuries of time, miles of terrain, and continents of culture. It saddens me to know that there is much condemnation toward those who pray with Mary as a mother, sister, daughter, saint, or friend, because of that language barrier. I refer here to the Greek word “Theotokos.” The Greek to English translation is “Bearer of God”, The Greek to Latin to English translation is “Mother of God”, and so we have the first indication of the 5th century proclamation to bestow upon Mary a title that would eventually be mistranslated into words that were not intended to be written. What Mary did by accepting the will of God and giving birth to His son, was for all people just as that same son, Jesus Christ, was born for all people, whether they know them or not. The truth of the acceptance, known or unknown is shown in how we live out our lives in having that birth of Christ recognized in us by others.
God’s will does not begin with Mary’s acceptance of bearing His son. It does not end with his birth. It does not begin or end with our acceptance of His son. As the last line of the canticle proclaims, “...according to the promise He made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” This brings us into accord with not just the future, but all of the past and all of the deceased. And considering Abraham’s descendants now consist of three fourths of the world’s population, in one form or another, the “Bearer of God” has many descendants in her genealogy. Mary, the Blessed Mother of Jesus Christ, has humbly given herself as the perfect model of a vessel for receiving Christ into our own lives. As we make our final preparations this week for the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, let us clear some time and space to find a moment, and reflect on Mary, her unconditional love for God and humankind, and pray that we become more and more open to having Christ completely fill our hearts and lives every day. Perhaps without knowing it, you’ll greet someone on the street that will recognize Christ alive within you, and just as Elizabeth’s child did, leap for joy from the sound of your voice.

Four Moon Days

Four Moon Days
Peter Mark Gdula
12/02/2009

Four moons pass yet we have one
Our time is spent to gather sun
Beams that grow in the dawns
Yet move along as dusk spawns
Another broken vessel to be
Patched with flour paste as we
Seek another moon to hide behind
When shadows form in mind
And soul and heart our strength
Is begged for endless length
Of time and space impatient as
Our spirit grows for want and has
Yet not to show what fate betrays
The tides of four moon days