The Assumption: Bringing Mary Close

A special Mary Moment Monday guest post by Brandon Vogt

When I first became Catholic, I had a lot of issues with Mary. How could she hear and answer our prayers? How could the Church describe her as the Mother of God? How in the world could we believe that she never sinned?

But one teaching stood out as particularly difficult: the Assumption. This one says that at the end of her life Mary, body and soul, was drawn into heaven. Difficult as that sounds, it is one of the rare infallible dogmas of the Church; all Catholics are obliged to believe it.

So when confronted with this elusive teaching, I was forced to do some digging. In my investigation I first turned to history, which seemed to back up this strange claim —or at the very least it didn’t reject it. Simply put, we have no relics, no grave, and no earthly remains of Mary. Almost all the other apostles are still memorialized in their tombs or places of death, but when it comes to Mary, we have none of that.

If anyone throughout history wanted to disprove the Assumption—and there have been many with just that desire—all they had to do was find Mary’s body. Just as the Jewish leaders could have squashed the Christian movement, built on Jesus’ resurrection, if they produced his rotted corpse, so the Assumption could be confuted if Mary’s body was ever found. But nobody, up and down the centuries, has ever claimed to have it. That silence spoke volumes.

History revealed to me that it was at least possible for this dogma to be true. But interestingly, as I became both persuaded by the Assumption and increasingly devoted to Mary, I experienced an odd conflict: the more I believed in Mary’s importance, the less I wanted her Assumption to be true. That might sound odd, but I reasoned that the more devotion I had for this great woman, the more disappointed I was that I had no earthly connection to her.

Back in May, I was unexpectedly invited to Rome. There I toured the relics of a number of holy men and women. I got to dwell at the tomb of Pope John Paul II, a profound spiritual hero. I prayed near the relics of St. Jerome, one of the Church’s greatest biblical scholars and another personal model. And of course, as I basked in the beauty of St. Peter’s Basilica, the bones of St. Peter radiated throughout the church. Each of these experiences was profoundly invigorating, in huge part because I was physically proximate to the remains of such holy people.

But, to my great displeasure, there was no Mary. I saw plenty of frescoes and numerous mosaics depicting Mary’s face, but that’s all there was. At the end of the day, there were pictures and images—but no real relics.

Picture what it would be like to pray at the tomb of Mary, the greatest saint and perfect disciple. Imagine the ecstatic, undoubtedly powerful experience. Knowing how powerful Marian relics would be, why would God leave the remains of all these great heroes but take Mary away from us? Why would he remove her from this earth, transporting her beyond the cosmos?

To answer, we must understand the Assumption. The dogma says that God whisked Mary to heaven. But we must remember that heaven is not a place within our own space and time. It is not so much a distant realm but a deeper version of this current reality. Much as a circle is transformed into a sphere when it moves into a third dimension, so heaven deepens and fulfills the world we currently live in. A sphere is more complete and is a fuller version of what a circle could only shadow. So it is with heaven.

Under that rubric, the Assumption shimmers in a new way. It means that through this event, God didn’t launch Mary away from our world. Instead, he brought her close to it. “The kingdom of heaven is near,” Jesus says, which suggests heaven is as close as your beating heart. If Jesus was right, the closer Mary is to heaven, the closer she is to us.

We may not be able to pray near her bones, but we have a much closer connection than that. For us, who hunger for a deep, physical connection with the holiest saint in history, this is thrilling. It means that the Assumption is not only true, but that it’s one of God’s great gifts to the world.

Yet, there’s more. The closer we move toward Mary, the closer we trek toward heaven. And it’s there we discover not only the Mother of God, but God himself.

Which cuts to the heart of this great dogma and reveals its satisfying conclusion: Mary, through her Assumption, is our gate to the divine. We’re invited to tread her same path, to join Mary “on earth as in heaven.”

Brandon Vogt is a Catholic writer and speaker who blogs at The Thin Veil. He is also the author of the recent release from Our Sunday Visitor, The Church and New Media: Blogging Converts, Online Activists, and Bishops Who Tweet, and maintains the website associated with the book.

Praying for Him through Her

Image from Our Lady of Assumption Parish, Strafford, PA

My husband has a job. Right now, in his industry and in the economic climate, that is a HUGE blessing.

But it takes a toll on all of us. There’s a lot of extra work involved, because of a shortage of people (but at least he has work). There’s a lot of extra stress, because of a shortage of work (but at least he has a job). There’s a lot of extra worry because of both of the above (but God always provides).

One week from now is the feast of the Assumption of Mary, which has taken on great meaning to me in the last year. I was thinking of that this morning and it struck me…we’re nine days away from it! It’s the perfect time to start a novena, asking Our Lady of the Assumption to pray for us.

I’m dedicating my novena intentions to a few special things, my husband among them. I’ll include your intentions as well, if you want to join along.

Here’s the prayer I’ll be using, courtesy of the Prayers 2000 app (from the makers of the Divine Office app):

Lovely Lady dressed in Blue,
Teach me how to pray!
God was just your little Boy,
Tell me what to say!
Did you lift Him up, sometimes,
Gently, on your knee?
Did you sing to Him
the way Mother does to me?
Did you hold His hand at night?
Did you ever try
Telling stories of the world?
O! And did He cry?
Do you really think He cares
If I tell Him things –
Little things that happen?

And

Do the Angels’ wings
Make a noise?
And can He hear
Me if I speak low?
Does He understand me now?
Tell me – for you now?
Lovely Lady dressed in blue,
Teach me how to pray!
God was just your little Boy.
And you know the way.

A Bouquet for Mary

Wear Blue

A while back, I came across something that suggested wearing blue on Marian feast days. So let’s all wear blue today, in honor of a great feast day for Mama Mary. It’s not an overtly crazy thing to do, but maybe when you look down at your shirt (or your jeans or your shoes or your socks or…well, whatever) you’ll remember to send her a shout and blow her a kiss.

Loving Mary

An incredible way to spend the day and honor Mary would also be to sit back and crank up episode 67 of the Among Women podcast, which is titled “What I Love About Mary.” You’ll hear me, but you’ll hear a host of other contributions too, some from saints, some from letters, and some from calls Pat received. There are lovely songs by Susan Bailey and the Daughters of St. Paul and no shortage of inspiration. Don’t miss it.

A Rosary for You

After a lot of reflection about praying for others, I wanted to offer to you a spot on my prayer list. I am often asking for your prayers, and I wanted to extend my thanks to you and reciprocate this important work of the Church. Leave a comment, email me, or let me know via one of the various social networks, and I will remember you during my morning prayers (which right now include a rosary).

The Assumption This Year

On Sunday, we celebrate the Feast of the Assumption. It’s a Holy Day of Obligation here in the United States, and one that I’ve always struggled to understand and internalize.

I’ve written about it at Faith and Family Live, but it remains something strange to me, something I’m just not used to. It’s hard to explain how I’m drawn to it — it’s a feast of Mama Mary, after all! — and how I’m confused by it, how I want to celebrate and how I struggle to justify my joy, how I tear up and how I look heavenward.

I think it’s lovely, don’t get me wrong. It’s an example of how God loves me personally and all of us individually. He thinks enough of us to make sure we have a heavenly mother! He is sharing His Own mom!

This year has been a whirlwind. It started with a death that rocked our world and continued with terrifying health problems with our oldest daughter. It has included news of a pregnancy and watching the ongoing health struggles of Poppa Gene.

There have been a lot of tears this year, more in eight months than I would have thought an entire decade could hold.

And so it is that we come to a major Marian feast, the Assumption.

It is on this day, as the Church celebrates the Mother of God and her glorious entry into heaven, that my sister-in-law will come “home” to Ohio. She and her girls are coming in a caravan of Reinhard brothers.

She’ll be surrounded once she’s here, and yet I know that she’s going to feel more alone than ever. She’s going to have family at every turn, and yet I know that there will be a glaring absence, one that, though healed by time, is always present. She will smile and cry and hide what she can. She will muddle forward, do her best, get through it and over it and around it.

There’s something beautiful about this painful day being on a feast of Mary. I have felt, over the years of watching this sister-in-law hero of mine, that she has a very special place in Mary’s heart. From her openness about her story to her unwavering faith, she continues to show me the path to Mary, the way through the sorrow and the heartache. She shakes her fist and throws things across the room, but she also drinks a beer and laughs heartily. She picks the splinters out of her feet and tosses them in the face of the one tempting her to give up.

She’s spunky, this sister-in-law of mine, and it does all of us good to have a taste of that in our lives. I’d carry her cross for her if I could, I’d hold her head in mine. I’ve watched her mother sob, unable to help her daughter more, wanting to take the pain and make it go away, and I’ve felt utterly and completely helpless.

Sometimes, when I’m paying attention, I get a glimpse of God’s grace. This year, the Feast of the Assumption feels like one such grace. It feels like Mary reaching down and letting us know that Allen’s regaling her with stories and playing ball with his boys.

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