Yesterday at Adult Catechesis we watched the episode about Mary from Fr. Barron's Catholicism series. During the discussion afterwards, I mentioned that since becoming a mother I feel closer to Mary's human side as a a mother, and I suggested that perhaps Mary went to visit Elizabeth because she was afraid and anxious about what the angel had told her - a message that would leave her unwed and pregnant. "Nonsense!" exclaimed one older lady who was present. "Our Lady had no fear! She was above such human concerns!"
Her reaction took me aback. When I tried to say that even Jesus expressed "human emotions" such as fear and sorrow, she said: "I'm not going to argue with you. But let me just say that we shouldn't focus on their human side. We should call our minds to the divine."
Nice words, and I wasn't going to argue with an elderly lady who obviously did not want further discussion on the topic. But her vehemence made me think of Augustine, who argues, in one of his homilies on the Psalms, that before we can ascend to the divine with Christ, we have to descend with Him into the "valley of tears" - the world of human concerns. If we hasten too quickly and try to grasp the divine without humbling ourselves in the "valley" of all those messy human experiences like fear and sorrow, Augustine says, we will never reach our goal. We must follow the path Christ laid out before us - a path of descent and ascent.
When I thought about my conversation with the elderly lady more, I realized that perhaps it was frightening to think of Mary as someone who felt afraid, who felt anxious, who felt worried. After all, if Mary isn't strong enough to defeat those human weaknesses, then who is? And if this lady needs Mary to be her strong-armed, strong-willed Mother, then I don't want to tread on that image. But I do hope I planted the seed of a different understanding of Mary: one that sees her strength flowing from her experience of human weakness.
Is this not what we believe about our God as well? God was not content to stay on the "divine side" of things, in some rarefied place beyond human conception. He came down to the human side - He became human in all things but sin. And as far as I know, feeling afraid for one's life and feeling anxiety about the future are not sins but rather part and parcel of the human experience of being limited in knowledge and understanding.
Jesus taught that strength comes from allowing ourselves to be weak. It comes from recognizing our dependence on others. Christian "strength" is not the strength of the world - it is not a strength that means self-sufficiency or independence. Christian strength is comprised of the strength of the Church, the Body of Christ made visible within our human community and sanctified by the presence of the Spirit. When Mary went to visit her cousin, perhaps she recognized that she could not do her task alone. She would need Elizabeth's support, Joseph's support, the help of her family and her community. Perhaps her wisdom in accepting her very human needs is something we can emulate in this world which sees weakness in asking for help.
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In the same homily on the Psalms, I read Augustine's warning about not to clinging to the "temporal," and it occurred to me that too often we interpret this word as having to do with material goods, when really the word comes from the Latin for time, not matter. Of course material goods exist "temporally" in the sense that they come into being at a particular point in time and cease to be at a particular point in time, but I wonder if maybe thinking of the temporal as specifically having to do with time might shift our conceptions a little bit.
Last Sunday the second reading at Mass was about the patience of the farmer who tills his soil while waiting for the rains. The farmer cannot make the rains come, but he can prepare his land for the proper season. If he tried to spend his time worrying about the rains or trying to make the rain fall, he'd be wasting his time. Wisely, he knows that it is better to be patient - to wait, to offer his time to God in prayerful expectation, and to make good use of the time he has.
Augustine tells us to submit our temporal blessings to God - not just material things like our money or our possessions, but time itself. Just like our possessions should be put to use to give God glory, so too should our time. When things go according to our plans, we should acknowledge it as a blessing from God and give thanks to Him - but when they don't, we should be able to say with Job: "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away." For those who struggle with patience as I do, I think it helps to think of all our time as a gift from God that we must offer back to Him. When when we cannot do things according to our own schedules - well, what a gift, what an opportunity to offer that time to God - to make sure it is not wasted, to give it back to God in prayer! Don't waste your time trying to change things you can't fix. Do what you can do - offer it to God.
The people of Israel were patient. They had to be. They could not make their Messiah come. They kept their eyes trained on heaven, waiting anxiously for the "acceptable time, the day of salvation." During Advent we too share their patience and their hope. Advent - this time of waiting - is such a wonderful time to practice patience: that fine art of waiting without wasting time, of responding graciously when our plans go awry, of giving generously of our own time, of respecting the time of others.
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