Luke 1:26-33 recounts the story of the annunciation and at first glance, it seems like good news for Mary. Seriously, who wouldn't want to be told that they are favored by God and that their son would be a king?
"Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and his kingdom there will be no end."
But then, in verse 35, Mary get's the punchline...
"The holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you."
It is the classic, "I have good news and I have bad news" scenario. The good news is that your son will be king, ordained by God himself, and you will be queen-mother. The bad news is that everyone will think that you cheated on your future husband and for a young woman in ancient Isreal, this was about as bad as it gets.
Although Mary answered God's call, I really don't think she could have fully understood the call at that time. Let's face it, Gabriel left out a few details like the fact that her although her son would be king, it would not be in the military sense and that he would die on a cross like a common criminal.
Yet she did answer God's call...
"Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word."
A little later in the chapter, Mary makes the following prediction...
"Behold, from now on will all ages call me blessed."
At Mass on Monday night, Fr. John Matejek of St. Catherine of Siena Church pointed out that her prediction has come true. The faithful of the Catholic Church have venerated Mary for just shy of two millenia. Father then provokes us, asking if we can make the same prediction for ourselves.
Our call may not come to us by way of an angel like Mary, or a blinding flash of light like Saul, or the threat of death like the early Christians. Our call will come nonetheless - and it will come repeatedly. At some point in our life, Jesus will say, "Follow me."
The call may be a driver with her flashers on, broken down and stuck in the middle of rush hour traffic. The call may be eye contact with an elderly lady with a frustrated look on her face, lost in the airport. The call may be someone who is treating someone else like garbage. The call may be a subtle as the alarm clock's ring and the struggle just to get out of bed to go to work.... or to Church.
It's hard to resist the urge to just keep driving instead of pulling over to help push some stranger's minivan off the road. It's hard, at the end of a long business trip, to offer your arm to an elderly lady, to walk slowly with her through the airport, to listen to her complain and to walk away - too late to get home to see your kids before they go to bed - without so much as a thank you for your trouble. It's hard to resist calling someone a jerk, no matter how much they deserve it, and to calmly rebuke them in a loving way. Sometimes for me, just getting out of bed is hard, let alone driving the kids to school before sunrise, going to work and calling the customer.
And it is hard to say to a good friend, "No... I'm sorry... You are wrong... There is only one true Church, which has faithfully guarded the teachings of Jesus Christ and held to His sacraments for twenty centuries."
This is what Catholics call "Suffering for Christ". And it is hard to do. What Mary did must have been hard to do. And this is why we celebrate her.
Father John tells us that just like Mary, countless generations of faithful who answered their own quiet call are blessed, even though they did not fully understand the meaning of the call at the time or what their answer might acomplish for future generations,.
Then, as he is fond of doing, Father points his finger right at us, and challenges, "Will future generations call you blessed?"
-Tim-