Tag: John Paul II

totus tuus: day 33

The Virgin of Nazareth became the first “witness” to this saving love of the Father, and she also wishes to remain its humble handmaid always and everywhere.

Pope St. John Paul II, Redemptoris Mater

I’ve been wanting to write for several days, but the only thing I’ve eked out has been some partially coherent dribbling in my journal. This final week of the 33-day consecration to Jesus through Mary, which is called “Knowledge of Jesus”, has been more intense in a way. I think I was hoping to write in order to ease the interior tension I could feel building, even though I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly. Today, the Gospel reading opened the floodgates. From the gospel of John, Mary Magdalene is in the garden weeping after finding the tomb empty, and Jesus calls her by her name. I started weeping—good, solid, necessary tears.

I mentioned this before, but these 33 days of consecration have been very different from what I anticipated. I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting—maybe more of an interior desert, something really difficult, trudging through spiritual mud, getting to Confession with a good, rich, long list of previously unearthed sins… or something like that—and that’s how I would ultimately grow closer to God, by becoming a more pure version of myself, someone more amenable, attractive—someone more lovable.

But it wasn’t like that. It went much deeper than that. I ended up wrestling with one of the most basic truths of following Christ, a primal matter of faith: I am a child of God and He loves me—not because I have done or will do things right, but because I was created by Him and baptized as His own.

That sounds so simple, but integral to the Christian life. After all, how can I fully surrender to Someone of whose love I’m ultimately uncertain?

I really thought I had that down. I mean, I grew up singing “Jesus Loves Me”, and as a child had memorized, “Behold what manner of love the Father has given unto us, that we should be called children of God” (I John 3:1). But maybe there was a sense as a child, and even as a young adult, that I would ultimately become a better person one day, and maybe I would know that by all the amazing missions God would call me to and sufferings He would ask of me. And when the going got tough, and I realized how challenging living a virtuous life could be, I grew discouraged… or something like that. Whatever it was, I don’t think I’ve believed—fully, with all that entails—that God actually does love me unconditionally.

It makes complete sense that this Truth would become clearer and stronger by growing closer to Jesus through Mary. Mary, as daughter of God, spouse of the Holy Spirit, and mother to Our Lord, has experienced the love of God thoroughly and received it humbly. She didn’t just withstand the cross to receive the crown—all of it was a gift to her because she truly embraced God’s love and will for her, first as daughter and handmaid.

On my refrigerator, I have a quote from Love Alone is Credible by Hans Urs von Balthasar, which reads:

Faith is ordered primarily to the inconceivability of God’s love… Love alone is credible; nothing else can be believed, and nothing else ought to be believed… The way God, the lover, sees us is in fact the way we are in reality- for God this is the absolute and irrevocable truth.

This really struck me when I first read it, only a couple months ago. If it had made such an impression on me then, it must have pierced a weak spot. I wouldn’t have known that it would also be a central theme during the consecration.  

Mary’s faith, which we Christians admire so greatly, was complete trust in the inconceivability of God’s love. She believed that she was the person God saw her to be. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to say, “Let it be done unto me according to thy word,” at the annunciation. She would have responded like Moses—“Send someone else, Lord”—or like Peter—“Depart from me Lord, I am a sinner”. She had no vanity; it did not occur to her that God may have made a mistake. She trusted Him, and this is why her cousin Elizabeth said to her, “Blessed is she who has believed.”

Reflecting on all of this is what made me realize that I don’t trust fully in the inconceivability of God’s love for me. It still seems inconceivable a lot of the time. One prayer that I have often prayed throughout my adult life is, Help me Lord to see you as you are, not just what I want you to be. But I’m realizing I also need to pray that God helps me to see myself as He sees me—like the father and the prodigal son, or Jesus with Mary Magdalene in the garden.

totus tuus: knowledge of Mary

knowledge through the Rosary

Mary lived with her eyes fixed on Christ, treasuring his every word: “She kept all these things, pondering them in her heart”. The memories of Jesus, impressed upon her heart, were always with her, leading her to reflect on the various moments of her life at her Son’s side. In a way those memories were to be the “rosary” which she recited uninterruptedly throughout her earthly life.

Pope St. John Paul II, Rosarium Virginis Mariae

About a year into my Catholic inquiry, in a moment of fervor, I google’d “how to pray the Rosary” and printed out instructions, all the while glancing furtively to the doorway of the office, hoping my parents wouldn’t find me with this verboten literature. But these thrilling moments would pass, and I would be back at square-one, uncomfortable with Mary. Every time I looked upon an image of Mary or even thought about her, I was physically uncomfortable.

There were times I was genuinely frustrated with myself because I knew it was strange to be afraid of someone so obviously good. Even if I didn’t grow to love her, couldn’t I at least respect her? Only through my teeth could I acknowledge her importance. My head had submitted to the Marian dogmas, but my heart was lagging behind.

By my senior year of high school, I had decided I would be Catholic when the time was right. I was in an unofficial catechumenate phase of penitence and prayer. The Rosary still made my skin crawl. So during Lent I resolved to say it once a day, usually in the morning while I drove to school via daily Mass, half-expecting to burst into flames from the wrath of God, and thereby resolve to turn from my sinful pseudo-Catholic ways.

I did not burst into flames. (Though I almost got in a car accident when my rosary caught on my signal-turner and burst, beads flying everywhere. As it turns out, it is not necessary to hold your rosary while driving.) Nor did Mary appear to me and say, “Thank you, daughter, for finally praying my rosary.” It was more like a quiet, still grace that continued to pervade my life during a really, really difficult time.

My Lenten practice did not continue. I prayed the Rosary sporadically for the next… well, up until now, to be honest. We’re not one of those families that prays a rosary every night, except during the month of October, the month of the rosary. But now, during this period of the 33-day consecration, I’m asked to pray a rosary daily.

What has made a difference for me this time, though, is that I have recently read two spiritual writers who speak of Mary in a language I can understand. English writer Caryll Houselander’s Reed of God describes how Mary is an open and willing vessel to God’s divine will. She describes moments in Mary’s life and offers her insight into Mary’s heart, while also applying each situation to modern times and situations. Swiss writer Adrienne von Speyr’s work Handmaid of the Lord beautifully and poetically describes her own contemplation of Mary’s interior life. Both of these works have made Mary more real to me, more like a real woman, wife, and mother. With Houselander and Speyr’s descriptions, the mysteries of the Rosary enter my heart in a deeper way than before.

Below is one excerpt from each book.

A contemplation for the mystery, “Finding Jesus in the Temple”:

Why did Christ treat Our Lady this way?

It was not to show His absolute trust in her or her trust in Him (although she was the one human being to whom God’s will was completely unhindered). It was because Our Lady lived the life of all humanity. Concentrated into her tiny history is the life story of the whole human race, the whole relationship of the redeemed human race with God… Naturally, then, she experienced this loss of the Child because it is an experience which we all have to go through, that our love may be sifted and purified.

Reed of God, Caryll Houselander

A contemplation for the mystery, “The Crucifixion”:

Whoever says Yes to a child consents to that little being’s whole future work and fruitfulness, which extends into the unforeseeable… [Mary] hears what [Jesus] says to the thief- that this word contains a promise and that he, although in the midst of dying, does not cease to make promises, because nothing, not even death, not even forsakenness, can violate his mission. Thus he promises no less on the Cross than he would promise as God in heaven: namely, Paradise together with him. His promises, therefore, are not dependent upon his present condition. His word is valid with a divine impartiality, however he may be faring as a man. Everything around him and in him is falling apart; only his mission remains intact. He cannot see the thief without letting this mission become effective for him. The mother can draw on this and realize that her own mission- namely to say Yes to everything that God intends for her- is uninfluenced by her sorrow and her inclusion in the Son’s night.

Handmaid of the Lord, Adrienne von Speyr

totus tuus: day 6

the Beatitudes

Nerds that we are, whenever my husband or I are reading a good book, we will excitedly punch the other one in the shoulder and say, “Listen to this!” or “Can I read you something?” Several months ago, my husband was reading Life of Christ by Ven. Fulton Sheen and, with tears in his eyes, read out loud a passage from the chapter on the Beatitudes:

But let any man put these Beatitudes into practice in his own life, and he too will draw down upon himself the wrath of the world. The Sermon on the Mount cannot be separated from His Crucifixion, any more than day can be separated from night. The day our Lord taught the Beatitudes, He signed His own death warrant.

My husband was so visibly moved by the passage, I didn’t want to betray my confusion. How could that be so? I thought. The Beatitudes are so beautiful. In my head I imagined a hippie-like Christ sitting on a hill talking about blessed this and blessed that— idyllic, and nothing like the crucifixion. I knew I was missing something, but after a “hmmm” and a nod, I went back to reading my own book.

Fast-forward to now, Day 6 of the Consecration to Jesus through Mary, a day to ponder the Beatitudes. I read the familiar Scripture passage from Matthew 5, Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven, and so on. Yes, lovely; sure, powerful. But the next piece for reflection was from St. John Paul II’s homily from the Mount of Beatitudes in Israel in 2000. He said, “Jesus did not merely speak the beatitudes. He lives the Beatitudes. He is the Beatitudes.” I went back to the Scripture passage and began to read it differently: Jesus is poor in spirit… Jesus mourns… Jesus is meek… Jesus hungers and thirsts for righteousness… Jesus is merciful… Jesus is pure of heart… Jesus is a peacemaker… Jesus is persecuted…

The passage suddenly turned into an arrow that pierced my heart and I had to ask myself: Am I poor in spirit? Am I willing to mourn? Am I meek? Do I hunger and thirst for righteousness? Am I merciful? Am I pure of heart? Am I a peacemaker? How do I react to persecution?

I realized I had grazed over the Beatitudes most of my Christian life like the eunuch who meets Philip and says, “How can I read with no one to teach me?” I remembered Fulton Sheen’s words about the Beatitudes and immediately went looking on the bookshelf for Life of Christ. In just ten pages, he illuminates those twelve verses with piercing clarity: “Our divine Lord takes those eight flimsy catch-words of the world- ‘Security’, ‘Revenge’, ‘Laughter’, ‘Popularity’, ‘Getting Even’, ‘Sex’, ‘Armed Might’, and ‘Comfort’- and turns them upside down.” Sheen goes through each, discussing the opposition to each Beatitude. He finishes how he began:

Crucifixion cannot be far away when a Teacher says ‘woe’ to the rich, the satiated… the popular. Truth is not the Sermon on the Mount alone; it is in the One Who lived out the Sermon on the Mount on Golgotha… On the Mount of the Beatitudes, He bade men hurl themselves on the cross of self-denial; on the Mount of Calvary, He embraced that very cross.

John Paul II, at the close of his Beatitude homily, says, “[Christ] does not simply say, ‘Do as I say.’ He says, ‘Come follow me’.” When I read the Beatitudes as traits of Christ, I can see how saints like Mother Theresa or Damien of Molokai were willing to answer God’s call to serve the poorest of the poor, for in them they saw the face of their beloved Savior. Or in a more ordinary sort of way, Thérèse of Liseiux could react with charity to hurtful sisters and Chiara Badano could accept suffering and death at the hand of cancer because they followed Christ in the Beatitudes—knowing they were blessed in mourning, in persecution, in their meekness— not because they relished suffering, but because they loved Jesus and followed him to the mount.

totus tuus: day 4

the “what”

“This devotion is necessary for us only in order that we may find Christ perfectly, may love Him tenderly and serve Him faithfully.”

True Devotion, St. Louis de Montfort

When I finally picked up True Devotion by St. Louis de Montfort after giving it almost two decades of a shelf-life, I was surprised to realize how much I had misunderstood Marian consecration, even during my years as a Catholic. My mistake was to think of it as just a Mary-thing, which is why I kept a safe distance. I was made immediately aware of this when I realized the correct title of the consecration is not to Mary, but to Jesus, through Mary. St. Louis de Montfort spends many pages singing God’s praises:

“He is our only Master… our only Lord… our only Head… our only Shepherd… our only Way… our only Truth… Except the Name of Jesus, there is no name given under Heaven whereby we must be saved.”

He repeats this throughout the book, again and again stressing that the primary goal of the consecration—because it is the primary goal of our life—is to grow closer to Jesus Christ, and Mary shows us how to do that. He writes, “Mary is so transformed by You by Grace, that she no longer lives as of herself; it is You alone, O Jesus, Who live and reign in her,” which is why she is the model of all Christians.

As powerful and beautiful as True Devotion is, when faced with the actual, practical consecration, I was confused and overwhelmed by it. Essentially, it’s like a 33-day retreat, but in real time, all while living out one’s real day-to-day life. So how do I, a partially over-whelmed home-schooling mother of six, stay focused through an increasingly challenging 33-day period?  A dear friend suggested I use Totus Tuus: A Consecration to Jesus through Mary with Saint John Paul II by Father Brian McMaster. I’m extremely grateful for this book. It is faithful to St. Louis de Montfort’s form and prayers, while also including daily focal points, Scripture readings, and selections from JPII’s writings. It’s been really helpful in focusing my prayer time and contemplation throughout the day.

The consecration is divided into sections. In the first part, what is called the “preliminary days”, the focus is on the fundamentals of the Christian faith (i.e. the Trinity, the Incarnation, prayer, etc.). The next period encourages a knowledge of self, followed by a knowledge of Mary, and finishes with a knowledge of Jesus. The act of consecration is prayed on the 34th day, which for me will be May 31, the Feast of the Visitation, and the anniversary of my baptism.

In the introduction to Fr. McMaster’s book, he includes an excerpt from John Paul II’s memoirs where he remembers that as a young man, he thought he should steer away from the ardent Marian devotion of his childhood, afraid it might compromise his worship of Christ. But after reading True Devotion, he realized his error, and sees how Marian devotion is truly rooted in the mysteries of the Trinity, the Incarnation, and the Word of God.

Though our circumstances of hesitancy towards Marian devotion were quite different, I was heartened by this. I still see St. John Paul II as a spiritual father, like most Catholics in my generation; he was pope when I came into the Church and was a true “papa” and shepherd who exemplified love, joy, and mercy. His devotion to Our Lady was so public and undeniable during his pontificate that, though it was not something I fully understood, planted a seed in my heart. I am glad to have him with me throughout this consecration.