The Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Zechariah 2:14-17 | Luke 1:46-55 | Matthew 12:46-50
This memorial, like many others, escaped my attention till today. As I work my way around the liturgical calendar, I’m discovering that certain feasts fire the artistic imagination more than others; aside from the Holy Trinity, it seems like the Blessed Virgin Mary is a major inspiration to the visual arts. One need only peruse Margaret Duffy’s catalog of paintings on the Presentation of the Virgin to be amazed at the many interpretations that artists have lavished on this apocryphal event.
I also had a ringside seat yesterday at Church of the Holy Spirit’s celebration with about 100 young children receiving their First Holy Communion. As I watched them process in their white garments, I couldn’t help but wonder which ones would eventually dedicate their lives to God, as I’d imagine St. Joachim and St. Anne had in mind when they watched their beloved daughter ascend the steps to the Temple in Jerusalem, not knowing what God had already planned for her.
And then I wondered: How would I present myself to God?
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Has it crossed your minds, brothers and sisters, that we in effect re-present ourselves to God at the dawn of each day?
As we continue with our daily labor, do we think “I do all this in Your name, Lord, may it be pleasing to you”, or “look, I just want to get this crap over and done with, and where’s that report I asked for AN HOUR AGO?!?!”
And as we watch our favorite TV shows at the end of an exhausting day, do we picture ourselves in cahoots with the on-screen protagonists, kicking annoying-colleague butt and committing mental adultery with sexy actors/actresses, burying ourselves in lurid fantasies about how life would be so much better if everyone recognized and obeyed us?
Or do we lift our our aches and pains to God, our frustrations and worries, in the knowledge born of hope and faith in Christ Jesus that we can start anew the next day, trying new ways of dealing with our obstacles, mending fences with those whom we shouted down?
Do we present ourselves as tyrants like King Herod,
or humble servants like the Lord of love?
Do we keep looking back at all the people whom we think hate us,
or down at our many spiritual wounds, some self-inflicted,
or (like the young Mary) forward to a renewed commitment to all that is good and holy, and positive engagement with our fellow humans?