Christ’s resurrection ripples raise us up – 1 Cor 15:20-27, Lk 1:39-56 (Assumption)

Solemnity of the Assumption; St. Andrew's, Taunton.

Some things can’t help but spread.  Laughter would be one, hiccups definitely another.  True goodness is the same way, and that’s true in any field: the greatest musician isn’t the diva or divo who tuts about their accompanist’s tempo, but someone who makes everyone around them play better when they pick up their instruments; just as a great athlete doesn’t hog the ball, but raises the play of the whole team.  Virtue’s the same way too: the virtuous person is contagious with goodness and walks around lighting fires of zeal and coating everything with a soothing balm of hope and patience.  And if that’s what virtue does, then that’s what resurrection does too.  Resurrection is the fruit of the greatness of Christ’s love, it’s what happens when a human life was lived so perfectly, so holily, so virtuously that someone dared to love us enough not just to die for us, but loved us so much that not even death, death at our hands, could keep him from being with us.  The fiery furnace of Christ’s love erupts in resurrection.  And it spreads. It spreads to Mary, which is what our feast in particular celebrates today, and it spreads more broadly still; it spreads to us, which is what we celebrate at each and every Mass.

 

God is enough for our “much” – 1 Kings 19:4-8

 Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year B; Chapel of Mary (Stonehill College).

Our first reading teaches us that, when things feel too much, sometimes what we need is a nap and a snack, and then everything’s OK. Well, kind of. I’ll get to why Elijah feels the way he does, and what God does about that, soon. But before going there, I want to sit a while with Elijah’s heartfelt, brutally honest prayer. And I don’t want to minimize the kind of pain he’s feeling, because properly attending to his pain will help us attend to our sisters and brothers in pain, and might even help us name and understand better our own.