Today is the Feast of the Assumption. On November 1, 1950 His Holiness Pope Pius XII proclaimed as dogma that the Blessed Virgin Mary was assumed, body and soul, directly into Heaven at the conclusion of her time here on earth.
Whether or not the Blessed Mother experienced an earthly death prior to her Assumption remains open to debate, as the proclamation made no attempt to address the issue. I myself have not really taken a stance on the matter, preferring instead to think about what those final moments must have been like.
While contemplating the sufferings of the Blessed Mother during the events of the Passion, I often rely on the visual and mental imagery supplied by two primary sources: Maya Morgenstern's heart-wrenching performance as the Blessed Mother in Mel Gibson's powerful film The Passion of the Christ and the book that served as the film's chief inspiration, Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich's The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ. These two works paint a very vivid picture of the anguish Mary felt in seeing her beloved Son take upon Himself all the sufferings of the world. But what one most comes to understand in both the movie and the book is the incredible love that the Blessed Mother has for her Son, a love surpassed only by that of the Father and the Holy Spirit and unmatched by any other creature. It is a love so intense, a union of two hearts so intertwined, that the Blessed Virgin's sufferings parallel those of her Son even when they are not physically near each other. We think back to the sorrow she felt when she lost Him at the age of twelve, the grief that struck her as she searched for Him, and the obvious relief (tempered with the maternal instinct to scold her child for worrying her so) when she found Him in the Temple. The intense pain of being separated from her 12 year old Son for three days foreshadows the infinitely more painful three day separation from her 33 year old Son. This pain of separation from the beloved Son, in fact, is a recurring theme in Mary's life; and it mirrors the pain that we feel at being separated from God here on earth. Paradoxically, this sense of separation becomes more pronounced the closer we grow to the heart of God. A trademark of all Saints - indeed, a trademark of all those who live a life of heroic virtue - is a growing alienation from the world and a growing desire to be with God in Heaven. How much more intense, then, must this feeling have been for the one who among all creatures was closest to the heart of God, the one who lived a life of such heroic virtue as to be surpassed only by that of the Word Incarnate Himself?
We hear often of the pain Mary felt when she searched for her Son in Jerusalem, the joy when she found Him in the Temple, the sorrow that defies all understanding during the events of the Passion, and the equally indescribable joy that must have come over her when He rose again. But how often do we hear of yet a third instance when Mary must have felt the pain of separation from her Son, the pain she must have felt after His Ascension into Heaven? Certainly, she must have felt great joy for her Son when He returned to His rightful place at His Father's side; but this joy had to have been tempered by the realization that she would live the rest of her earthly life separated from Him once again.
We know little of the life she led after His Ascension, other than the bits and pieces that have been handed down to us. Most sources seem to agree that she remained in Jerusalem for a time after the Ascension, though at some point in her life she ended up in Ephesus (present-day Turkey), where tradition holds that she spent her final years on earth. She was no doubt a beloved mother figure to all those who knew her Son to be the Son of God, just as she would become a beloved mother figure to all the faithful in the ages to come. We know she lived a life free from sin, and no doubt was, after her Son, the greatest model of human holiness to those who knew and loved her, just as she has been to all the faithful who have known and loved her throughout the ages. Even so, it would be impossible for the rest of mankind, who suffer the effects of the Fall, to grasp how hard it must have been for her to live from day to day, obediently following the will of God and living her earthly life, all the while fervently desiring with a desire no other creature could ever possess to be reunited with her Son in Heaven.
If Mary died an earthly death, there were no doubt those who gathered around her bed to mourn the passing of one they loved so dearly. If she simply looked heavenward and stretched her arms out towards the angels who were to carry her to her beloved and to the queenly accolades that awaited her - with few if any witnesses to mark her passing from this life - there were no doubt those who still grieved at her removal from their midst. Still, those who knew her best - especially St. John the Apostle, who was there when her Immaculate Heart was pierced, and who may even have been holding her in his arms and consoling her at the exact moment of that piercing - must have been overjoyed at the thought that her greatest desire was even then being fulfilled.
What must it have been like for the Blessed Mother - she who had known the joy of finding her Son in the Temple, and had known the joy of His Resurrection? In those last moments before she was taken from this world, what wonderful sense of anticipation must she have felt, what tears of joy must she have shed, knowing that she would presently be reunited with the One whom she loved most - this time forever? What ecstasy must have gripped her tender and loving heart - a heart once broken by the many evils unleashed upon her Son - at the thought of seeing that Son in all of His divine splendor? Whatever the circumstances of her departure from this world, there is no doubt in my mind that no one save Jesus Himself looked forward to the life that is to come more fervently than did our beloved Mother. Where we are moved to tears of sorrow for the sufferings visited upon her pure, innocent heart, let us be moved to tears of joy at the knowledge that her life had a happy earthly ending, and an infinitely happier heavenly beginning.
Happy Feast of the Assumption! God bless!
In Jesus and Mary,
Gerald
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