Mary wasn’t always a patron of mine. In fact, despite being a feminist at an early age, she wasn’t even on my radar for female empowerment. With my social life heavly influenced by protestants, I was on the thinking that Mary had no place in my prayer life. She was certainly a big part of God’s plan for salvation but I would never pray directly to her. How absurd, I thought. When I was 15 I went on a spiritual retreat at a convent with religious women who took upon the name, Sisters Minor of Mary Immaculate. Great, I thought, a bunch of brainwashed pansies, indoctrinated into Marian devotion. Although I myself was much interested in exploring the possibility of religious life, I would never join a community that practically worshiped Mary.
And then something happened on that retreat. Something crazy. By day 9, I was kneeling in front of a Marian statue, praying for Mary to guide me, to make my actions and thoughts pure for Jesus, vowing to be her “solider”…I was pledging my life to Mary! Good grief! I had become one of them! A brainwashed pansy, I thought! But then something else happened. I was doing it not because everyone else was, not because I had actually been brainwashed, but because it really did make sense, because it was true, it was honorable, it was the right thing to do, it was empowering, it was humbling, it was life-changing.
I had already understood that as a Christian, my life’s journey is about spiritual refinement, a continual and arduous emptying of myself to be filled with a life of the virtues, a constant drawing of myself to Jesus. And because I understood this, asking Mary to be of assistance on my journey makes the most sense of all the people and angelic persons I could ask assistance from because it was Mary herself who in the first place brought Jesus to the human race, she was always drawing others to Jesus, she was always saying no to her ego and yes to grace. This amazing woman lived her entire life not in search of her personal earthly desires but seeking instead to serve the greater good. She was overflowing with the life of the virtues because her will was one with charity itself. She was living exactly how I was striving to live.
Photo: Our Lady of the Lake choir members contemplate Mary’s childhood.
So there I was at this retreat ready to clean up my act and Mary, as it turns out, was the best person to help me do it, the best person for the job, she was the one with all the qualifications, the one who checked all the boxes. I surprised myself. How did she not make it to my A-List before? That was the real crazy part. How did I never think of her as the best patron I could ever possibly have? What was it about Mary that my pride kept me from not seeing her in all her glory before? That was just it: my pride. DIND DING! My pride my pride my stupid pride. This woman ready to give, ready to lead, ready to transform my heart, and there it was—my big fat personal pride—standing in the way.
This year, I’m having my choir members learn the “Salve Mater Miseredicordie” hymn for the Feast of the Assumption Masses. And whenever I get to the “holy Mary!” part at the end of the verses my heart flutters for I know that my pride almost completely got in the way of never knowing who our holy mother Mary truly is and what she desires so much to give to us her children. The hymn humbles me. Mary teaches me humility. Grateful for this lesson.