We celebrate the Feast of the Assumption this week.  It is one of many occasions in which the Church proclaims honor to Mary, the Mother of God.  I have never invested myself in Marian devotions; my spirituality grew in different ways.  Part of this, I believe, is the result of a childhood experience – I grew up in a very strong, Italian parish in New York where Mary was crowned and honored in many ways.  One day, on my way home from school I stopped into church for prayer.  It was May and the Mary altar was covered with flowers and tributes; on the other side of the church the Joseph altar stood bare.  My sense of fairness was touched (the fact that I was born on Saint Joseph Day and share his name did not hurt).  I began lifting and moving floral displays from one side of the church to the other, not many, but enough to satisfy my sense of balance.  As I carried one vase across the church, the pastor entered the church; I can still hear his angry bellow.  After returning all the flowers, receiving a severe admonition, and suffering more of the priest’s wrath, I left for home.  Badly prayed Rosaries that were more race than prayer, novenas and devotions that seemed to deify Mary, and excessive pomp throughout added to my lack of concern.  Strangely enough, my lack of devotion to Mary seemed to fuel a desire to know about and honor the saints of the Church.

As I grew into adulthood two experiences tempered my Marian estrangement: a graduate course that viewed Mary and Jesus in light of Mediterranean culture and a series of articles and presentations related to oppression in South and Central America.  I began to see Mary, not as an unapproachable minor deity but as a real woman challenged and tormented by the trials of life, the ugly whispers of neighbors, the horrors and oppression of an unjust government.   The image of Mary, the Mother of the Disappeared, touched my heart and soul; Mary became real for me; she gave meaning to a world that too often was cheap and without value.

I still don’t have a great deal of affection for the varied Marian feasts; for me they fragment, and compartmentalize, and cloud the life of a woman of courage and devotion and example.  The image of Mary, crushed yet unbroken reminds me of her value to me and the Church; she offers strength when hope seems gone; she stands with grace when the world is at its worst, she is the one who says “Yes!” and doesn’t count the cost.