THE MESSAGE OF THE RECTOR MAJOR
Fr. Fabio Attard, SDB
Mary
 |
The Visitation (Philippe de Champaigne)
|
Example of an open and giving heart
With God dwelling in us, like Mary,
we see ourselves as called and sent
Mary arose and went in haste (Lk 1:39). The words are few, yet full of meaning. Through these simple and
decisive gestures, the inner structure of a heart that has truly allowed God to
dwell within it is revealed. Mary’s departure isn’t for just any kind of
journey; it’s the response of a life of recollection—of a soul that, having
learned to listen and to discern, then moves to respond. After having lived
through the experience of the Annunciation, Mary doesn’t stop to process what’s
just happened to her. Mary doesn’t close herself within the intimacy of her own
experience—an extraordinary and profound one—keeping it to herself. On the
contrary, she allows herself to be molded and guided by the Word. She sets out
to go to another.
Mary’s is a spiritual
movement: she lovingly took in the Word, and now it’s the Word dwelling within
her that directs her toward her neighbor. Those who truly love, as a
consequence of feeling loved by God, forget themselves and place themselves at
the service of others. Mary teaches us that openness of heart isn’t an optional
virtue, but rather the very way in which God’s love takes shape in the life of
one who believes in him.
Openness: Moving beyond a narrow vision
With God dwelling in us—like Mary—we see ourselves as being
called and sent forth. Mary’s actions stand in contrast to a view of life built
upon an unavailable “self,” closed in upon itself. When we choose to observe
the world solely from a narrow observation point, we run the risk of arriving
at the conclusion that our own opinion contains the whole truth. This is the longstanding
temptation: to reduce reality to what we’ve already seen, measured, and
planned. Our own way of thinking and seeing becomes the sole and exclusive measure.
Mary shows us that openness of heart is, first of all,
an emptying of one’s own egoism. When we remain closed off—rather than allowing
ourselves to be guided by charity—we lose that movement of the heart which
receives God’s gift then to reach out to our neighbor. True openness of heart isn’t
a human decision; it is, before all else, a grace – one that must be invoked,
freely received, safeguarded, and exercised every day. We can’t truly reach out
to others—in a full, free, and joyful sense—unless we allow God to be alive
within our hearts. May he be the One to make us open—opening wide our eyes to
what transcends our own small and poor human logic.
Emptying oneself is the first form of love
In a culture like ours, there is always the subtle
risk of self-reference—the belief that one constructs his own identity by
looking only at himself, as into an ever-smaller mirror. Mary bears witness to
a different way of looking at life: she re-positions her entire existence toward
the presence of the Word within her heart, and subsequently, toward Elizabeth’s
need. It’s a choice that regards the need of one’s neighbor as a calling, as
the fruit of one’s relationship with God. And it’s for this very reason that
she sets out in haste to one in need.
True availability has, at its roots, the courage to
question oneself and to renounce one’s self—even when this appears to be a
loss. It’s not a matter of ostentatious generosity, but rather of an inner
freedom born from having discovered that I can be myself only by giving of
myself to another in a radical way. Here, an open and available heart isn’t the
winning of a trophy, but an act of abandonment to the will of the Father.
Not an act of kindness, but an obedience to God who
dwells in our hearts
Mary doesn’t go to Elizabeth because she believes from
a human standpoint alone that her elderly cousin is in need of help. Her
visitation to her cousin isn’t merely an act of kindness; rather, it’s the
presence of the Son who, within her womb, is conforming his Mother to himself.
Mary’s journey to Elizabeth is the mission of God himself, taking the form of a
journey toward the other.
Mary’s visit is a mission born of the Son’s coming
into her life. When Jesus truly becomes a part of our lives, everything we are
and do flows from this single source. Mission springs forth from the personal
encounter with Christ.
Unconditional availability: beyond the results
In the face of Mary’s free and generous choice, our
desire to imitate her is marked by a very subtle yet ever-present temptation:
that of wanting to see what kind of results our choices yield. Mary, who
immediately sets out on her journey, conveys to us the decision of a heart that’s
already full—one that seeks no security or certainty outside itself. For the
true measure of a mission, and of its success, lies in its living relationship
with the Word that dwells within it.
Mary, icon of a free heart – Word, faith, and charity
Cardinal Carlo Martini offers us a reflection that’s
brief, yet profound and essential: the Word is the seed, faith is the womb that
receives it, and charity is the fruit that is born. Mary is the woman who lived
this dynamic in its fullness: with humility, she welcomes the Word; with faith,
she rises and goes in haste; with charity, she gives of herself. Her “going in
haste” conveys that gesture of charity which mirrors a heart that’s free and
liberating, illuminated by the Word that sustains her faith.
An open and available heart isn’t merely a heart that’s
sentimentally good; rather, it’s a heart that has learned to dwell within the
tension between the proclamation received and embraced, and the brothers and
sisters who await it; between interior grace and the road to travel; between
the mystery of God and the concrete reality of human need.
Mary teaches us that we need not wait until we have
understood everything before we set out.
