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There are people who talk all the time. You or I could
be one of them and not realize it. Maybe it is just
exuberance of personality, or a brain packed full of
ideas that simply must poke their way out.
Or it could be self-centeredness, I suppose. I have
known folks who take their breath in the middle of the
sentence instead of at the end so that they can rush to
the next sentence without a pause at the period, leaving
no room for anyone else to butt in.
Am I being unkind? Not really. It takes all types. But
there is a lesson to be learned from this phenomenon,
and it concerns each one of us.
The more we talk the less we listen.
Truly listen, I mean. If we talk all the time, our
energy is taken up by our own thoughts and actions and
effects. We miss one of the greatest treasures of all:
the beauty of other people in their complexity and in
their simplicity and their interiority.
Should we then just sit in silence and let others talk?
Not at all. We must take care to exchange with others.
To talk, yes, but also to listen.
All true relationships, be they societal niceties or
deep friendships, are founded on receiving and giving.
We do not talk all the time, we do not listen all the
time. We give the gift of attention to the other, and we
receive it back from them.
That being said, the Gospel surely gives us a test case.
Why does the newly pregnant Mary talk so much this
Sunday? She has hurried to her cousin Elizabeth’s
house in the hill country, and hardly have they even
said hello when Mary bursts into a long speech or song,
the one we traditionally call the Magnificat.
In it she even says that all generations are going to
call her blessed! Talking about herself, so it seems.
No indeed. Examine the words just before the
Magnificat. Mary is actually responding to what
Elizabeth has just said. “You are the mother of my
Lord! Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken
to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”
In return Mary does let the excited words pour from her
mouth. But the Magnificat is not about Mary, it is
entirely about God. She will be blessed by all
generations, she says, not at all because she is herself
something great, but because God’s love and mercy
are great, and they will pour out through her to the
world. Mary had a lifelong habit of listening to
God’s love. She knew the Holy Spirit when she
received it. Her reaction? To speak the divine Word into
the world. She is the great example of hearing and then
speaking.
The feast of the Assumption salutes this trust and
openness in Mary. She had been at one with God all her
life, even in the searing passion and death of her son.
She had already been through the sickness and
annihilation by which humans normally progress to God.
The Assumption is not a mythical statement of fancy, it
is an acknowledgment of how close she had been to Jesus
all life long, and especially in his death.
It would have been superfluous for her to die
again.
Fr. John Foley, S. J. of the Center for Liturgy
You are invited to email a note to the author of this
reflection:
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Art by Martin Erspamer, O.S.B. (formerly Steve
Erspamer, S.M.)
from
Religious Clip Art for the Liturgical Year (A, B,
and C).
Used by permission of Liturgy Training Publications.
This art may be reproduced only by parishes who purchase
the collection in book or CD-ROM form. For more
information go to: http://www.ltp.org/
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