Lady Day

In Medieval England the 25^th March was called “Lady Day”. It was a special day when the people celebrated the happiness of Mary on saying ‘yes’ to becoming the Mother of God.  It was kept as a special holiday, because, of course, this was the England that was called the Dowry of Mary.  Her special place.  Children brought nosegays of flowers and placed them before her statue on wayside shrines; there were special Masses and afterwards games and dancing in her honour. 

It is no coincidence that today we keep Mother’s Day very close to what used to be called Lady Day.  It too is a celebration of motherhood, a day of thanksgiving, fun and laughter.  A day when we remember with a smile all that our mothers and grandmothers did for us.   A day of happiness and a celebration of the gift of life.

The feast that we call the Annunciation is the greatest feast of the Poor Servants of the Mother of God.  Mother Magdalen always celebrated it as the moment when the hearts of Jesus and Mary became one.  From her earliest years she was captivated by the wonder of the moment when the young Mary of Nazareth was left alone after the visit of the Angel Gabriel. This was the moment which has changed our world for ever – the moment when our little planet received into its fold the God who had made the heavens and the earth and all they contained, as a tiny, pulsating embryo in the womb of a young teenage girl.  The moment when time and eternity became one – “the still point of the turning world” as later theologians were to call it.

Mother Magdalen wanted us to reach out to that stillness of eternity as we contemplate this special moment, and try to think about what was happening – God himself breaking into our world to share our pain and loneliness and vulnerability, but also to be part of our joys and laughter.  She wanted us to see it as the greatest act of love this world of ours has ever seen, or will see. The Incarnation is all about love.  This stupendous act of love brought with it light and life and beauty to a world grown dark and despairing and sinful.  She wanted us to experience the wrapping round of the Holy Spirit on Mary after her ‘yes’.  In the Old Testament, if you remember, the Holy Spirit journeyed with those weary pilgrims of Moses and Aaron in the form of a cloud by day and a flame of fire by night.  In the daytime, the Israelites wandering in the desert, were also enveloped or wrapped around by the presence of the Holy Spirit to comfort them and to give them new life and hope.  This time, the enveloping literally brought new life as the unawakened womb of Mary received the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity into its depths.

Mary, at the age of fifteen or so, was the first woman ever to be totally overshadowed by the “power of the Most High” as the Angel Gabriel put it.  She allowed the Holy Spirit to come close to her when she said “Be it done to me according to your word” – words that we say often in the Angelus. But we forget that they were uttered first by a young girl from a despised Jewish village, a girl who was to face the censure of the people of Nazareth for what they judged to be a scandalous happening – a well-brought up girl becoming pregnant when she was unmarried, and as a result, facing the public humiliation of being sent away in disgrace or worse.  

Mother Magdalen always talked of the Incarnation in terms of love, and of course that is what it is. She loved to think of the hearts of Jesus and Mary joined together in the womb: “Let us ponder what it means” she would say. 

So we ask the Holy Spirit at this special time to help us to understand this mystery and to experience its warming, comforting love for each of us. We pray that we will make a response to “that love which first loved us” in the way we treat one another.

Have a happy feast on Monday – Lady’s Day.  We will pray for each of you on our special day.

The Night before Christmas

Clement Moore's poem has brought into focus the Scriptural image of Christmas as a time of reflection and quiet as well as one of rejoicing:

                                 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
                                 not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.." it begins.

 It echoes the wonderful antiphon for Christmastide which is often used for Christmas Eve liturgies:

"When peaceful silence lay over all, and night had run half of her swift course, your all-powerful word, O Lord, leaped down from Heaven, from the royal throne."

It is when the rush is over, 'the' busy world is hushed' as Newman put it, that the awesome silence of the Godhead descends upon our earth.  It is the still point of the turning world, the point of intersection between God and us that we call Incarnation;  the opening up to the endless possibilities which the meeting of God and our poor, shadowed world throws up.  But to see them, to reach out to this God who comes to us as a baby, born in a stable, with only the steaming breath of two animals to warm him in this bitter night of mid-Winter, we have to experience the silence and 'otherness' of eternity;  we are touching another world.

Notice how often the carols we sing so enthusiastically at this time talk about the silence in which Bethlehem in particular, is wrapped at the coming of Jesus.

"O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!" we sing, and have you ever noticed that when we use those words, a silence and an awe descends on us too?  Then there is, of course "Silent Night" - our translation of the more profound original title "Stille nacht, Heilege nacht" which evokes the stillness that surrounds the wonder of this holy night.  It is a prayer in itself,  which has become a household word in every country where it is sung, especially on the night before Christmas.  Incidentally, it was first sung on Christmas Eve - you probably know that already - but the waves of prayer and the affection in which it is held reach far beyond that little village in Austria where Josef Mohr and his small  choir first sang it to the lilting strains of the violin, because the mice had eaten away at the organ bellows!  What a story, and what a powerful prayer!  For most of us, it is Christmas, it still has the power to draw us into the silence of the first night of Jesus' life.  It is a meditation in itself, isn't it?

Have you ever walked beneath the stars on a crisp, cold Christmas Eve night, and felt the special message of this time?  An old man who was a farmer in the West of Ireland once told me that the animals quieten as midnight approaches, and kneel down to celebrate the birth of the Saviour.  I really believed him as a child, but I never managed to catch them at it!  I lived in Birmingham at Christmas-time then. I saw the cattle in the Summer when they were out in the field; small chance I'd have of proving whether or not it was true.  Still it is a lovely idea, if apocryphal! 

I suppose we value the silence of late Christmas Eve and of other times when we really look at the Crib, and try to imagine what it must have been like for Our Lady to give birth under such circumstances, when we enter into the quiet peace that surrounded his birth.  Then we cry out with the angels "Glory to God on high, and peace to all those who are of good will!" because we have felt it,  and as a consequence, we are carried beyond ourselves and our small concerns.  That is the message of Christmas.  To go beyond ourselves, to reach out to those most in need, to kindle our small lights so that others may not stumble in the darkness.

We don't have to say "What can I give him, poor as I am?"  We know.   Have a very happy, peaceful and blessed Christmas, and let's remember to pray for those who cannot pray for themselves, or do not feel the need to do so.  Our prayer for them is a gift, wrapped in lovely, shiny Christmas paper, and we don't have the fag of wrapping it up!