Bathed in Blue

The priest had been talking for about fifteen minutes, but I couldn’t tell you what he said.

This priest, an old friend of Fr. Francis, had invited us to his residence and I, the loyal shadow, tagged along. He is of the Order of Augustinian Recollects (O.A.R). I can’t tell you anything about the order because all of his books and magazines were in Spanish. Fr. Francis and I sat on a couch facing him. Behind his chair I immediately noticed a painting of Mary. More appropriately, it noticed me. Over the next fifteen minutes of conversation I struggled to pay attention (hearing only the voice of Charlie Brown’s teacher), finding myself captivated by this portrait. There are many paintings of Mary that I find beautiful, but this one…was different.

I remember one spiritual direction session I had last summer. I recall telling the priest how I was frustrated about feeling this attraction for priesthood and yet still tangled up in doubt over if I could really be alright without a tangible woman to hold me accountable. He leaned forward and said quietly, “Bob, maybe you’ve already found the right woman.” I promptly shut up.

How do you have a relationship with Mary? Easier done than said. I think the first step is recognizing that Mary actually existed—she lived in a specific time and moment of history. She is often frozen into a prayer card or ivory statue, and we forget that she was (and is still) flesh and blood. She was a young woman, terrified of what God called her to do, but freely and openly laid down her life to a plan beyond her comprehension. She is the paradigm for all young people struggling with trust in discerning God’s will, and I believe she is the reason why I survived my second year in seminary. The African Catholics I have encountered all hold a special reverence for Mary; every morning they pray the rosary before Mass. Like a good mother, she’s always waiting to help us, but she respects our freedom and stubbornness-—we only need to pick up the spiritual phone.

But sometimes, like a mother should, she puts her foot down. Two years ago an icon of Guadeloupe I had hung over my bed fell from its hook and drew blood from my forehead. I hadn’t prayed the rosary in some time—I took it as a sign to stop neglecting Mary. Fulton Sheen said that, “If we are one in Christ, than Mary is our Mother! It is a terrible thing for a man not to know his heavenly Father; it is equally serious not to know his heavenly Mother. I believe the Lord when He said, ‘This is my Body,’ so I believe Him when He says, “This is your Mother.”

Here’s to all the moms out there (hi Mom!), on earth and in Heaven.

-Bob
Totus Tuus Maria
written 06/29/11