Welcoming the word in daily life like Mary

Introduction

I consider this theme very broad, and therefore I will limit myself to a few aspects of what it would be right and necessary to say. I will begin with the famous words of Benedict XVI: “The Magnificat is entirely woven from threads of Holy Scripture, threads drawn from the Word of God. Thus it is revealed that she [Mary of Nazareth] is truly at home in the Word of God, that she goes out from it and enters into it with complete naturalness. She speaks and thinks with the Word of God. The Word of God becomes her word, and her word is born of the Word of God” (Deus caritas est41).

Pope Benedict XVI, like all of us, knows that the Magnificat is an expression of prayer and praise for what Mary felt at that moment and throughout her whole life, and also of the symbiosis between her and the community of the faithful. That is, this magnificent canticle is like a tapestry made by many hands, like the exultation of a multitude of the faithful, like the echo of many sounds that have merged into one. Mary, in her life and in her adventure of grace, is the most worthy to pronounce it and the one most in keeping with the experiential theology reflected in it. The Virgin is the voice of the whole Church, which identifies itself with her in the canticle. For a composition so refined, with a thousand biblical echoes, with images so suggestive and effective, with horizons so broad, yet at the same time so close to the language, terminology and rhythm of the doxology of all the Scriptures, is a personal and collective fruit; it resounds in the heart and in the feminine soul of Mary in a unique way and reverberates like thunder in the ethos of the whole people of the children of Abraham and of those redeemed by the new Adam.

Luke certainly contributed his literary skill to these words, but the distance between the original event and the material composition of the text also made it possible to fuse the initial emotion with the results of a personal and collective experience that found its place in the text and in its echoes. It truly became a song of longing and hope, but also a response of prayer and doxology to everything that had already been accomplished and had taken full and definitive form. The roots of the ancient covenant are evident, as is the truth of the new Covenant in the most prominent nuclei of the text.

The originality of Luke

We all know the parable of the sower: the three Synoptics recount it with their own nuances (cf. Mt 13:1-9, 18-23; Mk 4:1-20; Lk 8:4-15), but they also place it according to the different structural needs proper to each Gospel. I would like to focus on Luke’s wording and to point out an operation that Luke carries out (Lk 8:4-15). This parable is placed by Luke in a completely special context: not by chance, before recounting it, the evangelist recalls that around Jesus there were men and women who followed him, sharing with him journeys, preaching and concerns (Lk 8:1-3).

The premise of the parable, unlike in the other two Synoptics, Mark and Matthew, is above all that there is a mixed discipleship, made up of women and men, and therefore they are the most immediate recipients of the parable. We may even say that they were to be the visible form of the fruitfulness of the seed cast by the sower. Certainly there is also “a great crowd gathering” (Lk 8:4), but this is a stereotype. Those who really are the first and direct recipients of the meaning of the parable are they, the women and men disciples.

After presenting the parable and explaining it, and we all know how it goes, although without the final percentages, but speaking of “fruit in perseverance (karpoforoúsin en hypomonè)”, an expression that denotes less efficiency and more sensitivity and quality, Luke concludes by calling attention once again to specific people, in this case the presence of the mother and the brothers who are trying to reach him but cannot, they “stood outside” (éxo stèkontes), says Mark (Mk 3:31; cf. Mt 12:46). This situation indicates both the press of the crowd and the difficulty, even for his relatives, of truly understanding the newness that Jesus was proposing.

John also mentions that not even his own understood him or believed in him (cf. Jn 7:3-6). Now, as for the answer of Jesus to those who inform him that his relatives are looking for him, perhaps even to suggest that he calm down because of the commotion, Jesus replies: “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word (the Logos) of God and put it into practice” (Lk 8:21). This answer is drastic regarding who can really be part of the family of Jesus from now on, and, as I mentioned, it serves as a closing frame for the parable of the sower and its explanation. Nevertheless, we can glimpse something more.

The mother and all his brothers, like anyone who wishes to be a disciple, must accept a path of listening and discipleship, of new practice and new horizons, and direct their lives toward other relationships that regenerate them, allowing a new “family belonging”, truly a new identity. This comes about through an intense, obedient and regenerating listening to the Word of the Master, sown with generosity and received with a “good and generous” heart (en kardía kalè kai agathè: Lk 8:15).

It can be firmly stated that these words of Jesus do not represent a distancing from his family, but an invitation, bearing in mind also the feminine context that opens and closes the passage of the parable, to become a fruitful womb of the Word, exactly as a woman experiences motherhood, and to watch with perseverance, that is, with attentive and loving constancy, over the development of that mysterious seed, in a symbiosis that transforms each by the other and becomes hope and rhythm of life.

To speak about how to “receive the Word like Mary and incorporate it into lived experience”, we must place Mary within the horizon indicated by Christ: she herself, after receiving him as the eternal Word in a mysterious pregnancy brought about by the Holy Spirit, after having brought him forth into earthly life, is called to set out on a path of discipleship, to be, in her turn, a disciple of the Son who has now become a mature public Master. A discipleship that is not only a presence alongside him, but also a mysterious regeneration of the heart, thanks to the incorruptible seed of the new, living and eternal Word (cf. 1 Pet 1:23), to which she herself gave flesh and earthly identity.

Mary of Nazareth: a Hebrew woman and daughter of Zion

There is no doubt that Mary has a Jewish identity with all the implications that this statement carries: at times we call her “daughter of Zion”, and this applies to tradition, to customs, to duties and prohibitions, to religiosity and to the sense of identity. And also to assiduity in hearing and obeying the Word. A Jewish man or a Jewish woman is inconceivable without an “intense hearing” of the Word.

Luke does not go down into the details of Mary’s Jewish life: but he does contain elements that we can, with a little introspection and without forcing anything, bring out, and from which we can make emerge the typical features of a Jewish woman of faith, whose physiognomy would not be understandable except within the typical structure of Jewish life, held with conviction and not by chance. The fact that Luke begins already with the situation of Mary betrothed to Joseph, and does not trouble to say a further word about her childhood or about some aspect of her religious experience at that time, does not mean that she did not have those qualities.

For a Jewish person who knows the Scriptures, the phrase “do not be afraid”, which accompanies the bewilderment of the protagonist, is typical of theophanies, and Mary shows that she is aware of this. And the disturbance is the normal reaction of a Jew before an event of divine revelation. It is not simply shyness, surprise or a moment of discomfort: in that prolonged disturbance, accompanied by reflection, with a feeling of fear and wonder, about the meaning and the purpose of the special greeting, we find the classic reaction of the Israelite. It is the sense of a presence that overwhelms and goes on toward a task that always exceeds one’s own views and plans.

This is even more true in this case, in which the expression “the Lord is with you”, this too being a classic pattern of approach, is preceded by a kind of surprising definition: kecharitoménè, which we could translate as “full of grace”, something that really seems inadequate for a girl of fifteen. It could also be a courteous expression, as some Eastern traditions say: “how gracious, beautiful, splendid you are”. But in context it means, as we all know, much more, in terms of quality and substance, as is better explained afterward by the repetition: “you have found grace before God” (Lk 1:30: chárin parà tò Theò), which implies not only satisfaction, but also: you have brought joy, you have gladdened the heart of God; in his eyes and in his heart, you are loved and desired.

The answer of the angel could be commented on in many ways. Without doubt, it would not have been understandable without an intense familiarity with the Scriptures, of which it contains many allusions, allusions that could not escape a Jewish woman who knew the Scriptures. I do not intend to go into this important aspect. I prefer to propose a complementary interpretation of Mary’s answer to the angel: “How will this be, since I do not know man?” (Lk 1:34). We know very well that, although committed to a promised marriage, Mary and Joseph were not yet living together, according to the Jewish custom that provided for the bond of matrimony and, later, cohabitation, with the nuptial procession. We know very well that the traditional reading sees in this expression of Mary (epéi ándra ou ginòsko) the intention of virginity, also supported by the apocryphal narratives about the young Myriam and her dedication (also according to the apocrypha) to the service of the Temple. A traditional and very beautiful interpretation, as we all know, but perhaps a little exaggerated, because if they were already in the process of matrimony, it is clear that the intention of both was to have a normal conjugal relationship, including procreation.

It would make no sense to think of a “wife” who excluded the desire for genuine intimacy and also the personal willingness to live it fruitfully. Nevertheless, I would like to propose another interpretation.

The bride-Israel is without a husband, she is barren

These phrases, the first and the second, also repeated in the announcement to Joseph (cf. Mt 1:18-25), imply the whole history of Israel, accumulating dozens of parallel and allusive passages. It was the language of hope, but also of suffering, on account of the historical infidelities and grave failings. The bride Israel seemed to have become barren because of the many failures resulting from political and cultic alliances with the neighboring peoples. She no longer had the fruitfulness of the times of fidelity, and Mary seemed to identify herself with the barren Daughter of Zion, without a companion, without the joy of seeing another descendant of David, one of the house of Jacob, lead the people toward peace and holiness.

In this perspective, one can connect Mary’s profound disturbance, her intense reflection and her answer with what Jesus will say about himself, or at least will hint at through gestures and manners on many occasions, as the bridegroom of Israel. There are many occasions on which Jesus will also take up the nuptial symbolism developed by the prophets concerning the loving and conjugal relationship between God and Israel, with betrayals and reconciliations (cf. Hosea, Deutero, Isaiah, Ezekiel; and above all the Song of Songs).

This centuries-old barrenness of the whole people Mary feels as her own; she immerses herself in it, and it is welcomed in her heart with the same sorrow that all share, together with the persistent hope of the devout: as will be seen in Zechariah, Simeon, Anna and many others. The answer or explanation of the angel can be read in the same perspective: the symbolism of the shadow of the Spirit, the holiness of God that takes form and visibility, the sublime dignity of the child to be born, humanly impossible, the appeal to a barrenness miraculously undone by the divine, are all Old Testament patterns that resound and are bound up with the concern of the “bride Israel”, Mary, over infertility and the lack of a vital, intimate companion.

In Mary’s final answer we find not only a personal readiness to give herself completely to the demands of the Word of the angel, but also to take upon herself the whole Word of the Covenant of the Fathers, so that it may be fulfilled in her for the benefit of all. She declares herself willing to see her existence interwoven in a unique way with what she knows and meditates from the collective memory, from the expectations, from the hope and the trust. In her consent to serve the Word, “let it be done to me according to your word (rèma)”, there is a readiness to be the place of the fulfillment of the ancient hopes and promises.

Now, “rèma” is word-event, in the deepest sense, and not merely a word, expression, sound or terminology. I see a confirmation of this in the exultant greeting that her cousin Elizabeth cries out to her: “Blessed is she who believed in the fulfillment of the words of the Lord” (Lk 1:45). The sentence comes at the end of Elizabeth’s canticle, in which various symbols of the presence of the Lord in the history of the people are also evoked (above all the passage of the ark of the Lord, the joy over the pregnant womb, the unrestrained joy, the impulse of the Spirit, the praise among women, and so on). It must therefore be interpreted in that context and not as a personal compliment addressed to Mary alone.

In this case, Mary represents the Israel of the just and the devout who believed in the fidelity of God, despite the darkness and the anguished waiting; she is the bride made fruitful, loved with “everlasting love” (Is 54:8), no longer rejected. Elizabeth becomes the interpreter of this certainty, that God would be faithful to his people, and in Mary she sees and recognizes that this fidelity has become a gift for all. In Mary’s availability, the answer for the benefit of all. Only two women who had believed, meditated and lived the guiding thread of the Scriptures, that is, who had heard, loved and identified themselves with the ancient promise imprinted in the Word handed on from generation to generation, could see this unity, could go beyond a personal joy, however legitimate and intimate.

The silent exegesis of Mary

We have meditated and continue to meditate, with astonished and contemplative hearts, on the event of the birth of the Son of the Most High. Each of us is struck by and savors in his heart many aspects that would deserve endless commentary, and the centuries have given us countless ones, because the events are “grace upon grace”, as John says (cf. Jn 1:16). I limit myself to commenting, with a few emphases, on the silent and reflective style of Mary in all the events connected with the infancy.

Luke records twice that Mary reflected and sought to understand. After the visit of the shepherds it is said: “Mary, for her part, kept all these things (synetèrei tà rèmata symbállousa en tè kardía), pondering them in her heart” (Lk 2:19). And after finding the boy Jesus in the temple it is said: “His mother kept all these things (dietèrei pánta ta rèmata) in her heart” (Lk 2:51). But around the reflective mother who guards memories, with a heart that is astonished and also seeks a unified explanation, we have others who do the same.

For example, when Zechariah speaks again in order to give the son the name of John, the neighbors are amazed and afraid, and “all who heard them (ta rèmata) laid them up in their hearts” (Lk 1:66). The shepherds, before going to Bethlehem, discuss whether it is worth going “to see that word-event (to rèma) which has happened” (Lk 2:15), and afterward they “will tell everyone about what (tou rèmatos) they had seen and heard” (Lk 2:20). And so there is astonishment as well: first, that of Elizabeth (Lk 1:41-45) on being visited by the Mother of the Lord, who presents herself almost as the new holy ark crossing mountain roads to share with her cousin the joy of an extraordinary motherhood that has benefited them both.

Then, the astonishment of the relatives of Elizabeth and Zechariah when the son is born: they rejoiced with her (synéchairon autè) (Lk 1:56). All who hear the shepherds tell their story, so out of the ordinary, are likewise filled with wonder: “they wondered at the things which the shepherds told them” (Lk 2:18). Even more so in the temple, before the exultation of Simeon, mother and father “marveled (thaumázontes) at the things that were said about him” (Lk 2:33). This refers to the birth and the first days. But it is also said that Mary reflected with a watchful heart even after the episode of the finding in the temple.

Here too we find astonishment and wonder (exístanto: it can be translated as amazement) on the part of the teachers of the temple (cf. Lk 2:47). But it is also noted that the parents “did not understand the word (to rèma) that he said to them” (Lk 2:50). Immediately afterward, “his mother kept all the word-events (pánta ta rèmata) in her heart” (Lk 2:52).

I would like to comment on this collective attitude of astonishment and reflection, of incomprehension and of keeping things in the heart. It belongs not only to Mary, as we have heard, but to many. This already indicates its importance: it was the holy Jewish habit of placing in the storehouse of the heart and keeping with care and wonder what was happening. Because all the events were at once word and deed, objective happening and mysterious sign, they reflected in order to find their connection within a framework that would explain meaning and purpose.

Mary lives with everyone the difficulty of understanding, but she is also accompanied by them in astonishment, surprise, the sense of fear and wonder. Because this is the true biblical way of receiving the Word and keeping it in the heart. With astonishment, born of the sense of one’s own frailty and transience, pierced by the signs of God that draw near, that become visible and audible, but that remain far beyond, compelling one to ponder in the heart, to converse in order to understand, to reflect so as not to let unexpected connections and reflections slip away.

A whole people of the humble who reflect and question themselves, who are taken by astonishment and at the same time lay up in their hearts ta rèmata, so that nothing may be lost, but may leave a lasting impression and become a discovery open to new horizons. I see Mary in this attitude, certainly as the virgin-mother who does not pass superficially over things, but also as a companion and heir of the best Jewish tradition: that of being surprised and filled with wonder, of ruminating and remembering, of watching and meditating, in order to draw out true meanings and inspirations for life.

This is living according to the Word and the Spirit: a stability of mind that becomes familiar with the events and memorizes the facts well and seeks the connections that make of them a design, a fabric, a complete and unified event. A stability of heart that turns into a single concern, a straightforwardness of love and desire, of values and expectations: this is the true heart of the Israelite, wholly imbued with the reflection of the rèmata.

But there is another stability on which I would like to focus: bodily stability. It completes the others mentioned and takes on a special meaning in the three decades of the presence of Jesus in Nazareth. Perhaps we have often tried to ignore the theological value of this long period lived in Nazareth by Joseph, Mary and Jesus. The sentences about Jesus growing in stature, age and grace, and the reflective spirit of Mary, are all that remains in our minds, and it is Luke who informed us of them.

It is too little for us not to have the feeling that they were perhaps years almost lost to redemption: why this long, silent, ordinary and anonymous existence of the Redeemer, when the whole world was awaiting the fulfillment of the promises and the universal spread of the light to the nations?

Nazareth: the word takes root in simplicity

Of the life of the Holy Family in Nazareth up to the moment when Jesus publicly set out as an adult, around the age of thirty, we know very little. It is clear that everyone knew the trade of the father (carpenter/téktonos, a title also attributed to Jesus: cf. Mt 13:55; Mk 6:3), and the mother did not seem to stand out in anything in particular, but shared in the religious life of all, going on pilgrimage to Jerusalem every year with relatives and acquaintances. Only Luke mentions twice the growth of Jesus.

After the return from the presentation in the temple for the redemption and the purification of Mary, it is said: “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon him” (Lk 2:40). At the age of twelve, when he began to be subject to the law (cf. Lk 2:42), he took part in the pilgrimage from the town of Nazareth to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover. Then he took the unforeseeable initiative of remaining in Jerusalem without telling his parents, causing them great anxiety when they realized that he was not in the caravan. After they found him and expressed their distress, as we know: “He went back to Nazareth and was subject to them… And Jesus grew in wisdom, age and grace before God and men” (Lk 2:51f).

I would like to reflect with you on this long period of three decades, about which we know very little but can surmise a great deal, even without believing in the marvels of the apocrypha. They are years that have no less theological and redemptive value than the last three, the public ones. And, above all, they are substantial for the theme of receiving the Word like Mary. We normally think that this reception takes place mainly in the initial part (the infancy episodes) and then in the part of the public life of Jesus.

In the initial part there are in fact few words of Mary: perhaps thirty in all, excluding the Magnificat. Certainly, in the public life there are many sacred words spoken by Jesus, but only nine are words of Mary (at Cana: Jn 2:3, 5); these, however, are not the only way of speaking about Jesus, nor the only circumstance for hearing and receiving the Word of God. As if the Word were the Word of redemption and salvation only when it acts and speaks in public.

This is why we can say that in Nazareth we would have something like a parenthesis, a passage of waiting, a reference to a later time, and such a long one. I believe we must reassess this long period, especially in the perspective of the title of our discussion: it is certainly the time in which Mary reconsiders and watches with a reflective heart over what she has seen and heard, and which she has not managed to understand completely (cf. Lk 2:50). She is like the good soil on which the seed of the Word has fallen, and in perseverance she brings forth the fruit that is to grow in whoever has a noble and obedient heart (cf. Lk 8:15). But I would like to go beyond this idealized, almost romantic view.

Mary, in those thirty years, does not stand out from the other women of Nazareth, nor does Jesus behave in ways that might make his fellow townspeople think that there is something extraordinary about him. This becomes evident when they marvel at the wisdom and the boldness he shows on a famous Sabbath in the synagogue of Nazareth (Lk 4:16-30).

Where was this reception and fruitfulness of the Word, what would it consist in?

Mary was called to be the mother of the Word of God: in her womb, in a unique and unrepeatable way, mysterious and astonishing, she brought forth Jesus, “he who will save the people from their sins” (Mt 1:21), introducing him into the great Jewish traditions of the giving of the name, circumcision, presentation as the firstborn in the temple, and the various Jewish religious practices. With him, according to the account of Matthew (cf. Mt 2:13-23), she also experienced the paradigm of the ancient exodus into Egypt and the return from Egypt. She certainly lived with him the daily Jewish practice of the various forms of prayer, and every family has the responsibility of teaching its children this complex daily ritual. At the appropriate moment she introduced him among the “sons of the law” (bar mizvot), with the obligations attached, as we have mentioned.

But I ask myself: where did this wisdom and grace come from, in which he is repeatedly said to have grown?

And what wisdom and grace were these, in reality?

We cannot think that these are qualities “infused” from heaven, to which Mary was a stranger. Rather, it is in this brief remark, which we have always interpreted in a “christological” sense, that I want to see a “Marian” note. What Jesus learned from tradition, from popular wisdom, from the Scriptures, from the promises of God and from the expectations of the people, we can deduce from what he does and says in the public life. There is no need to give many explanations on this point; everyone knows a great deal.

But who handed on to him this wisdom and grace before God and men?

Talis Mater, talis Filius: those long and slow decades were a slow school of listening and obedience to the great tradition in all its demands and nuances, a mutual school between Mother and Son, for handing on and rethinking, for interpreting and remaining capable of freedom and flexibility. Above all, for finding a new face of the God of the Fathers: the exceptional motherhood of Mary also affected her conception of the image of God. The core of this remains in the canticle of the Magnificat, but also in all the parables and language, gestures and choices of the Son, we see that the image of the Father is one of mercy and tenderness, and not of rigid law, of ritualized observances, of destructive threats. Starting from the language of the Son, you will find the mother, in her actions, in her style, in her presence. It is always so.

In darkness and in silence, in the most ordinary simplicity, in the normal relationships typical of any village, the mature personality of Jesus was shaped, in accordance with what his parents managed to hand on, taught by living, and celebrated together with everyone. This silent “inner growth” of Jesus in human flesh, in a life without distinctions, in relationships and their webs, in social exclusions and religious duties — not only were the people of Nazareth regarded as a contemptible people, but Galilee was looked upon with contempt because of the mixed character of its population. It is not time lost, but the fruitfulness of the Word according to the Spirit, a time of redemption in a profound and original sense.

The fraternal living together of Jesus in Nazareth may seem only a passage (though a long one) toward the full revelation of the Son of God in power. Yet we must see it as the truest radiation of the presence of God among us: industrious, hidden, fraternal, religious, the very essence of our humanity. It is on this point that I would like to dwell a little longer.

The eternal Son, in Nazareth

Jesus of Nazareth is in no way the “human part” of the incarnation. Jesus of Nazareth “is” the incarnation of the Only-begotten Son. Jesus “is” the Son. And reciprocally: Jesus of Nazareth is the one eternal Son, of the one God. Jesus of Nazareth is not the “human effect” of the incarnation of the Son of God, but is precisely the human effectiveness of his divine sonship. He is not the man whom the Son assumes and inhabits, nor the Son who passes through the human in view of the redemptive mission and takes leave of it once the mission is accomplished. Jesus of Nazareth is forever the Son of God. The same Jesus who was born of Mary and lived anonymously for a long time, so that the gift might be perfect, as gift.

In theology and in spirituality a strange rupture has been introduced between Jesus of Nazareth and the Son of God, as though Jesus, especially in his hidden life in Nazareth, were only a means, an intermediary for reaching the Son, and were not really the Son who dwells among us, the giver of life, the interpreter of the Scriptures.

We have to integrate “Jesus of Nazareth” into the horizon of an integral christology of “Jesus of Nazareth”. Jesus in Nazareth is Jesus of Nazareth in the reality and in the sacrament of his pure saving presence among men. From this it follows that the work of the incarnation is like a fraternal radiation of the saving presence; the pure presence of the Lord is the final reason, and not merely a prior condition. The theological reality of the saving being and acting of Jesus, the Son, cannot be reduced to his phase of public preaching, miracles and death on the cross.

And even the experience of the Church must be revised on this point, in the sense that we must share radically the obscure places of existence in view of the persuasiveness of the love of God. We may call it “hospitable holiness”, a form of the Church in which the dignity of the human person becomes the content of the proclamation and of the reality of the kingdom, even without words. The proclamation of the kingdom of heaven, which is already in our midst, finds in Nazareth its truthfulness in an experience that is saving, and not merely one of residence, and also in the paradigm to which the Church should perhaps look a little more in order to be a true fraternity scattered among the nations.

In the light of this theological affirmation, we can rediscover the great importance of Mary and speak of her as one who hears and lives the Word, lives with the Word, grows with the saving Word of the Son who is at her side and is a saving presence in anonymity, fraternity, simplicity, like everyone else. This is the “pilgrimage of faith” of Mary. And there Jesus matures, together with her and with all those around her, a complete fidelity to the plan of the Father of “being in the midst of the people”, of considering himself “God of the people” and of making the people “his family”.

And what if the new evangelization were to try to be also a tenacious recovery, in words and actions, of the long Nazareth-moment of the Incarnation of God among men, so that the divine proportion of the mission of the Son might recover its integrity?

This evangelical form of the memory of the Son in Nazareth, for so long a time, with such radical simplicity and such companionship of life and language, of feelings and experiences, Mary too lived it; she was his teacher and his disciple. With good reason Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus so loved the simplicity of Mary of Nazareth, where certainly the simplest virtues were also the most lived and the most deeply rooted. A few months before she died she wrote, in her last poem, entitled “Why I love you, Mary”: “I know that in Nazareth, Mother full of grace, you were poor and wanted nothing more: no miracles, ecstasies or raptures adorned your life, Queen of the saints! On earth there are many little ones who can look upon you without fear. The common way, incomparable Mother, you wish to follow and to guide them to heaven”.

Conclusion

I would like to go further with you and meditate on many other Gospel passages that are very inspiring. Let us think of the concern to keep the feast going at Cana, with the joy of the bride and groom, and of the obedience of the servants “to whatever he says” (Jn 2:1-12); of the silent (but undeniable) following along the roads of the public life (Lk 8:1-3); of the bewilderment when Jesus does not wish to receive his mother and relatives, who wanted to see him and ask him for more moderation (Mk 3:21). This apparent rejection is only an invitation to see in the mother and in the friends of the family the beginning of a new family relationship, the fruit of a life together that transformed and enlightened, that widened horizons and found solid roots in daily life (Mk 3:31-35).

Let us think too of the two great images of the “stabat” beside the Cross (Jn 19:25-27) and of the presence of Mary in the Upper Room, in prayer and also in dialogue with the disciples, still uncertain and fearful (Acts 1:14). I hope I have shown something new and different in fidelity to the Word, which is always new and always unforeseeable in its lights and its challenges. Let us seek to deepen, with prophetic intuition, with a contemplative heart and with hands of fraternal solidarity, the truth that has been revealed to us by the Son of Mary!

Deepen your studies: explore MariologyMarian TheologyMarian apparitions and the Postgraduate Program in Mariology.

On the example of Mary in receiving the Word of God in daily life, see the Encyclical Redemptoris Mater of Pope John Paul II.