SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN?

+

Every February 2 the Church celebrates the feast of the Presentation of the Lord, when Mary and  Joseph go to the temple in Jerusalem to offer the prescribed sacrifices required at the birth of a firstborn son. (Luke's account is the assigned gospel reading for the feast.) The incident is filled with symbolism and the fulfilment of prophecies. 

You may remember my previous post, referring to the grieving that our school community has been doing in the past couple of weeks because of the deaths of two teachers. My meditation on the feast of the Presentation this year has been colored, naturally, by that undercurrent of mourning. But the reflections can be of help to any Christian, I think. Here are some of the ideas that came to me.

A central figure in the presentation scene is an old man named Simeon who had been promised that he would live to see the Messiah. He took the infant in his arms and thanked God for fulfilling His promise. And he says to Mary,  

“Behold, this child is destined
for the fall and rise of many in Israel,
and to be a sign that will be contradicted
--and you yourself a sword will pierce--
so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”

This is a literary device that Luke is fond of, called a "programmatic prophecy," in which the speaker foretells how the story is going to unfold. I was thinking about the idea of "programmatic prophecy" this morning. It is based on a couple of fundamental assumptions: God has a plan for the world, this plan is ultimately about God's infinite love for the world, and thirdly, that loving plan is unfolding all the time, despite what it may look like to us humans.

The other central figure in the scene of the Presentation is Mary. She's really important to my reflections this year. Here's why: Two of our teachers dying within two weeks of one another doesn't sound like much of a plan to me. But sometimes we're faced, as Mary was, with deep, painful mysteries (--and you yourself a sword will pierce--) that are way beyond our intellect's ability to sort out logically. The gospel tells us that Mary kept pondering these things in her heart. Notice, not in her head, but her heart. We mustn't let the mystery of evil draw us up onto some high level of abstraction, because the Plan is invisible to the intellect, it won't yield to logical analysis. Mary humanizes the issue for us, and invites us to follow her lead by reflecting in our hearts with quiet confidence that the Lord is constantly loving and supporting us. There's an ancient litany of the Virgin Mary that includes the petition: "Mary, who kept the faith on Holy Saturday, Pray for us."

We all know people who have been so overwhelmed by the absurdity of some tragic event that they simply stop believing that there is a plan at all. For some mysterious reason,  they do not yet have the gift of Faith (or, more technically, the virtue of Hope, which allows us to hold on to our confidence in God despite the horrors and evils of this world).

This week I've been saying to the Lord, "I'm sorry, Lord, but this sure doesn't look like much of a plan to me. Or if it is a plan, it seems like a cruel one." And Jesus, who knows our human frailty firsthand, agrees: "Yes. I know just what you mean! I don't blame you for feeling that way. But I promise to help you to hang in there despite how terrible things seem. Try repeating the words I spoke to my Heavenly Father in the garden of Gethsemane, 'Not my plan but yours be done!'" 

I'm asking the Virgin to intercede for me and for our entire community, that her son, our Lord, will indeed stand by each of us, young and old, as we work our way together through the mystery of the Hidden Plan.

(But, to be honest, I confess that it still doesn't look like much of a plan to me right now.)