Discourse VII — The Assumption of Mary

In these days the Church proposes two solemn commemorations in honor of Mary: one of her happy departure from this earth, and the other of her glorious Assumption into heaven. In the present discourse we shall speak of her passing; in the following, of her Assumption.

How precious was the death of Mary: 1. For the qualities that accompanied it; 2. For the manner in which it occurred.

Since death is the penalty of sin, it would seem that the divine Mother — all holy and exempt from every stain of fault — should not have been subject to death or suffered the same misfortune as the children of Adam, already infected with the poison of sin. But because God willed Mary to be in all things like Jesus, and since her Son had died, it was fitting that the Mother also should die; and because he wished to give the just an example of the precious death prepared for them; therefore he willed that the Virgin too should die, but with a death entirely sweet and happy. Let us therefore consider how precious the death of Mary was: 1. For the qualities that accompanied it; 2. For the manner in which it occurred.

Point I

Three things usually render death bitter: attachment to the earth, remorse for sins, and uncertainty of salvation. But the death of Mary was entirely free from these bitterness and accompanied by three most beautiful qualities that rendered it exceedingly precious and joyful. She died wholly detached — as she always lived — from worldly goods; she died with the most perfect peace of conscience; she died with certainty of eternal glory.

And first, there is no doubt that attachment to earthly goods renders the death of worldly people bitter and miserable, as the Holy Spirit says: O mors, quam amara est memoria tua homini pacem habenti in substantiis suis! (Ecclus. XLI, 1). But because the saints die detached from the things of this world, their death is not bitter but sweet, lovable, and precious — that is, as St. Bernard explains, worthy of being purchased at any great price. Beati mortui, qui in Domino moriuntur (Apoc. XIV, 13). Who are these who die being already dead? They are precisely those fortunate souls who pass into eternity having already become detached, as it were dead, to all attachment to earthly things, having found in God alone their every good, as St. Francis of Assisi found when he said: Deus meus et omnia. But what soul was ever more detached from the things of this world and more united to God than the beautiful soul of Mary? She was indeed wholly detached from her relatives, since from the age of three — when children are most attached to their parents and most in need of their care — Mary with such courage left them and went to enclose herself in the temple to attend solely to God. Detached from possessions, content to live always poor and to sustain herself by the work of her hands. Detached from honors, loving a humble and abject life, even though the honor of a queen was her due by reason of her descent from the kings of Israel. The Virgin herself revealed to St. Elizabeth, a Benedictine, that when she was left by her parents she resolved in her heart to have no other father and to love no other good than God.

St. John saw Mary prefigured in that woman clothed with the sun, who had the moon beneath her feet: Signum magnum apparuit in caelo: mulier amicta sole et luna sub pedibus eius (Apoc. XII, 1). By the moon, interpreters explain, are signified the goods of this earth, which are fleeting and wane as the moon wanes. All these goods Mary never had in her heart but always despised them and kept them under her feet, living in this world as a solitary turtledove in a desert, without attaching her affection to any earthly thing; hence it was said of her: Vox turturis audita est in terra nostra (Cant. II, 12). And elsewhere: Quae est ista quae ascendit per desertum, etc.? (Cant. III, 6). Hence Rupert said: Talis ascendisti per desertum, idest animam habens solitariam. Since Mary, then, lived always wholly detached from the things of earth and solely united to God, death was not bitter to her but exceedingly sweet and dear, for it united her more closely to God with an eternal bond in paradise.

Second, what renders the death of the just precious is peace of conscience. The sins committed in life are the worms that most afflict and gnaw the hearts of poor dying sinners, who, having shortly to present themselves before the divine tribunal, see themselves at that moment surrounded by their sins, which terrify them and cry out around them, as St. Bernard says: Opera tua sumus, non te deseremus. Mary certainly could not at death be afflicted by any remorse of conscience, since she was always holy, always pure, and always free from every shadow of actual and original sin; hence it was said of her: Tota pulchra es, amica mea, et macula non est in te (Cant. IV, 7). From the time she had the use of reason — that is, from the first instant of her Immaculate Conception in the womb of St. Anne — she began with all her strength to love her God, and continued doing so, ever advancing in perfection and love, throughout her entire life. All her thoughts, desires, and affections were for God alone. She never spoke a word, made a movement, cast a glance, or drew a breath that was not for God and his glory, without ever straying a step, without ever being separated for a moment from divine love. Ah, in the happy hour of her death, all her beautiful virtues practiced in life surrounded her blessed bed: that faith so constant, that confidence in God so loving, that patience so strong amid so many sufferings, that humility amid so many privileges, that modesty, that meekness, that charity toward souls, that zeal for the divine glory; above all, that perfect charity toward God, with that total conformity to the divine will. All, in sum, gathered around her and, consoling her, said: Opera tua sumus, non te deseremus: Our Lady and Mother, we are all daughters of your beautiful heart; now that you leave this wretched life, we do not wish to leave you; we too will come to accompany and honor you eternally in paradise, where through us you will sit as queen of all men and all angels.

Third, what renders death sweet is the certainty of eternal salvation. Death is called a passage, because through death we pass from a brief life to an eternal life. Hence, just as the terror is exceedingly great for those who die with doubt about their salvation and approach the great moment with just fear of passing to an eternal death, so exceedingly great is the joy of the saints in ending their lives, hoping with some certainty to go and possess God in heaven. A Teresian nun, upon hearing from the doctor the news of her death, was so overjoyed that she said: "What, doctor, you give me this dear news and do not ask me for a reward?" St. Lawrence Justinian, near death, hearing his household weeping around him, said: Abite, abite cum lacrimis vestris: non est tempus lacrimarum. Go elsewhere to weep; if you wish to stay here with me, you must rejoice as I rejoice at seeing the gate of paradise open for me to be united with my God. And likewise a St. Peter of Alcantara, a St. Aloysius Gonzaga, and many other saints, upon receiving the news of death, burst into cries of jubilation and joy. And yet these did not have the certainty of divine grace, nor were they assured of their own sanctity, as Mary was assured. But what jubilation the divine Mother must have felt upon receiving the news of her death — she who had the greatest certainty of enjoying divine grace, especially after the Archangel Gabriel had assured her that she was full of grace and already possessed God! Ave, gratia plena, Dominus tecum... invenisti enim gratiam (Luke I, 28, 30). And she herself well understood that her heart was already burning continually with divine love; so that, as Bernardine of Busti says, Mary, by a singular privilege not granted to any other saint, loved and was always actually loving God at every instant of her life; and with such ardor that St. Bernard says a continual miracle was necessary so that she might live amid so great a flame.

Of Mary it was already said in the Canticle of Canticles: Quae est ista quae ascendit per desertum sicut virgula fumi ex aromatibus myrrhae et thuris et universi pulveris pigmentarii? (Cant. III, 6). Her total mortification, figured in the myrrh; her fervent prayers, signified by the incense; and all her holy virtues united with her perfect charity toward God, kindled in her so great a fire that her beautiful soul, wholly sacrificed and consumed by divine love, rose continually to God like a column of smoke exhaling on every side a most sweet fragrance. Qualis fumi virgula, beata Maria, suavem odorem spirasti Altissimo, wrote Rupert. And Eustachius with greater emphasis: Virgula fumi, quia concremata intus in holocaustum incendio divini amoris, ex ea flagrabat suavissimus odor. And as the loving Virgin lived, so she died. As divine love gave her life, so it gave her death, she dying — as the Doctors and holy Fathers commonly say — of no other ailment than pure love, St. Ildephonsus declaring that Mary either should not have died at all or should have died only of love.

Point II

But let us now see how her blessed death came to pass. After the Ascension of Jesus Christ, Mary remained on earth to attend to the propagation of the faith. Hence the disciples of Jesus Christ had recourse to her, and she resolved their doubts, comforted them in persecutions, and encouraged them to labor for the divine glory and the salvation of redeemed souls. She willingly remained on earth, understanding this to be the will of God for the good of the Church; but she could not help feeling the pain of being far from the presence and sight of her beloved Son, who had ascended to heaven. Ubi thesaurus vester est, said the Redeemer, ibi et cor vestrum erit (Luke XII, 34): Where one considers his treasure and his happiness to be, there he keeps his love and the desire of his heart always fixed. If, then, Mary loved no other good than Jesus, and he was in heaven, all her desires were in heaven. Tauler wrote of Mary: Mariae cella fuit caelum, for in heaven she made her continual dwelling in affection; schola aeternitas, always detached from temporal goods; paedagogus divina veritas, always acting according to the divine light; speculum divinitas, gazing upon nothing but God, so as to conform herself always to his will; ornatus eius devotio, always ready to fulfill the divine good pleasure; quies, unitas cum Deo, her peace was in uniting herself wholly with God; cordis illius locus et thesaurus, solus Deus erat, in short, the dwelling and treasure of her heart was nothing other than God. The Blessed Virgin did, however, console her loving heart in this hard separation by visiting, as is narrated, the holy places of Palestine where her Son had been during his life. She often visited now the stable of Bethlehem where her Son was born, now the workshop of Nazareth where he had lived so many years poor and despised, now the Garden of Gethsemane where he began his Passion, now the praetorium of Pilate where he was scourged, now the place where he was crowned, but most often Calvary where he breathed his last, and the holy sepulcher where she at last left him. And so the most loving Mother relieved the pain of her hard exile. But this could not suffice to satisfy her heart, which could not find its perfect rest on this earth; hence she did nothing but send continual sighs to her Lord, exclaiming with David, but with a more ardent love: Quis dabit pennas sicut columbae? et volabo et requiescam (Ps. LIV, 7): Who will give me wings like a dove, that I may fly to my God and there find my rest? Quemadmodum desiderat cervus ad fontes aquarum, ita desiderat anima mea ad te, Deus (Ps. XLI, 2): As the wounded deer longs for the fountain, so my soul, wounded by your love, my God, longs and sighs for you. Ah, the sighs of this holy turtledove could not but penetrate the heart of her God, who loved her so greatly: Vox turturis audita est in terra nostra (Cant. II, 12). Hence, no longer willing to delay the consolation of his beloved, behold, he grants her desire and calls her to his kingdom.

Cedrenus (Historical Compendium), Nicephorus (Book 2, ch. 21), and Metaphrastes (Oration on the Dormition of Mary) report that some days before her death the Lord sent her the Angel St. Gabriel — the same one who once brought her the news of being the blessed woman chosen to be the Mother of God. "My Lady and Queen," said the angel, "God has already granted your holy desires; he has sent me to tell you to prepare to leave the earth, for he wishes you with him in paradise. Come, then, to take possession of your kingdom, for I and all those holy citizens await and long for you." At this happy announcement, what else could our most humble and most holy Virgin have done but hide herself still more deeply in the depths of her most profound humility and repeat those same words she had answered to St. Gabriel when he announced the divine maternity: Ecce ancilla Domini. Behold, she again replied, the handmaid of the Lord; by his pure goodness he chose me and made me his Mother; now he calls me to paradise. I deserved neither the one nor the other honor. But since he wishes to show his infinite generosity upon me, I am ready to go wherever he wills. Ecce ancilla Domini — may the will of my God and Lord be always fulfilled in me.

After receiving this dear announcement, she shared the news with St. John, who we can imagine must have heard it with what sorrow and tenderness — he who for so many years, attending her as a son, had enjoyed the heavenly conversation of this most holy Mother. She then once more visited the holy places of Jerusalem, taking her tender leave of them, especially of Calvary, where her beloved Son had given his life. And then she retired to her poor dwelling to prepare for death. During this time, the angels did not cease to come often to greet their beloved Queen, consoling themselves in knowing that soon they would see her crowned in heaven. Many authors report that before she died, by a divine miracle the Apostles, and also some of the Disciples, were brought together from the various places where they were dispersed and found themselves all united in Mary's room. She, then, seeing those dear children of hers already gathered in her presence, began to speak thus: "My beloved ones, for your love and to help you my Son left me here. Now the holy faith has already been spread throughout the world; the fruit of the divine seed has already grown. Seeing that my Lord has no further need of my assistance on earth, and taking pity on the pain of my being far from him, he has granted my desire to leave this life and go to see him in heaven. You, then, remain to labor for his glory. If I leave you, I do not leave you in my heart; I will carry with me, and it will always remain with me, the great love I bear you. I go to paradise to pray for you." At this sorrowful news, who can comprehend what tears and laments those holy Disciples shed, thinking that shortly they were to be separated from their Mother? "Then" — weeping, they all began to say — "then, O Mary, you wish to leave us? It is true that this earth is not a place worthy or fitting for you, and we are not worthy to enjoy the company of a Mother of God; but remember that you are our Mother. You have been until now our teacher in our doubts, our consolation in our anguish, our strength in our persecutions. And how can you now abandon us, leaving us alone without your comfort amid so many enemies and so many battles? We have already lost on earth our Master and Father Jesus, who has ascended to heaven. We have consoled ourselves during this time with you, our Mother. And now you too wish to leave us orphans, without father and without mother? Our Lady, either remain with us or take us with you." So St. John Damascene. "No, my children," the loving Queen gently resumed, "this is not according to the will of God. Be content to do what he has disposed for me and for you. You too have yet to labor on earth for the glory of your Redeemer and to complete your eternal crown. I do not leave you to abandon you, but to help you all the more by my intercession before God in heaven. Remain content. I commend to you the holy Church; I commend to you redeemed souls. Let this be the last farewell and the only charge I leave you: if you love me, do this — labor for souls and for the glory of my Son, for one day we shall see each other again, united in paradise, never more to be separated for all eternity."

Then she asked them to give her body burial after her death, and she blessed them. She directed St. John — as the Damascene relates — that after her death he should give two of her garments to two virgins who had served her for some time. And then she modestly composed herself upon her poor little bed, where she began to await death with desire, and with death the encounter with her divine Spouse, who was shortly to come and take her to lead her with him to the blessed kingdom. Behold, she already feels in her heart a joy heralding the coming of the Spouse, which fills her entirely with an immense and new sweetness. The holy Apostles, seeing that Mary was already departing this earth, renewed their tears and prayers, and all knelt around her bed. Some kissed her holy feet, some begged her special blessing, some commended to her some particular need of theirs; and all, weeping profusely, felt their hearts pierced with sorrow at having to be separated forever in this life from their beloved Lady. And she, the most loving Mother, compassionated them all and went about consoling each one — promising some her patronage, blessing others with special affection, encouraging others to the conversion of the world. She especially called St. Peter, and as Head of the Church and Vicar of her Son, she particularly commended to him the propagation of the faith, promising him a special protection from heaven. But most especially she then called St. John, who more than all the others felt sorrow at the moment of parting from this holy Mother; and the most grateful Lady, remembering the affection and attention with which this holy disciple had served her throughout all the years she had been on earth after her Son's death, said to him with great tenderness: "My John, I thank you for all the assistance you have given me. My son, rest assured I shall not be ungrateful. If I now leave you, I go to pray for you. Remain in peace in this life until we see each other again in heaven, where I await you. Do not forget me; in all your needs call upon me for help, for I shall never forget you, my beloved son. My son, I bless you; I leave you my blessing. Remain in peace. Farewell."

But already Mary's death draws near. Divine love, with its blessed and vehement flames, having now almost entirely consumed her vital spirits, the heavenly phoenix amid so great a fire is losing her life. The angels came in hosts upon hosts to find her, as if in readiness for the great triumph with which they were to accompany her to paradise. Mary was well consoled at the sight of those holy spirits; but she was not fully consoled, not yet seeing her beloved Jesus appear — he who was the whole love of her heart. Hence she often repeated to the angels who came down to greet her: Adiuro vos, filiae Ierusalem, si inveneritis dilectum meum, ut nuntietis ei quia amore langueo (Cant. V, 8): Holy angels, O beautiful citizens of the heavenly Jerusalem, you come in gracious hosts to console me, and you all console me with your loving presence; I thank you. But none of you fully contents me, for I do not yet see my Son to console me. Go, if you love me, return to paradise and say on my behalf to my Beloved — nuntietis ei quia amore langueo — tell him that I languish and grow faint for love of him; tell him to come, and come quickly, for I feel myself dying with the desire to see him.

But behold, Jesus now comes to take his Mother and lead her to the blessed kingdom. It was revealed to St. Elizabeth that the Son appeared to Mary before she breathed her last, with the cross in his hand, to show the special glory he had drawn from the Redemption, having by his death won that great creature who for eternal ages would honor him more than all men and all the angels. St. John Damascene reports that he himself then gave her Communion as Viaticum, saying to her with love: "Receive, O my Mother, from my hands that same Body of mine which you gave me." And the Mother, having received that last Communion with even greater love, amid those last breaths said to him: "My Son, into your hands I commend my spirit; I commend to you this soul, which from the beginning you created by your goodness rich in so many graces, and by a singular privilege preserved from every stain of sin. I commend to you my body, from which you deigned to take flesh and blood. I commend to you also these dear children of mine" — speaking of the holy Disciples who stood around her — "they are left afflicted by my departure; console them yourself, you who love them more than I do; bless them, and give them strength to do great things for your glory."

When the end of Mary's life had now arrived, a great harmony was heard in the room where she lay, as St. Jerome narrates. And moreover, as was revealed to St. Bridget, a great splendor was seen to appear. At this harmony and unusual splendor, the holy Apostles realized that Mary was then departing; renewing their tears and prayers and raising their hands, they all said in one voice: "O our Mother, already you are going to heaven and leaving us; give us your last blessing, do not forget us, poor wretches." And Mary, turning her eyes around upon them all, as if bidding farewell for the last time: "Farewell, children," she said. "I bless you. Do not doubt that I will not forget you." And then death came — not clothed in mourning and sadness as it comes to other men, but adorned with light and gladness. But what death! What death! Better let us say that divine love came to cut the thread of that noble life. And as a lamp before dying, amid the last flickers of its life, gives forth a greater flash and then expires, so the beautiful butterfly, invited by her Son to follow him, immersed in the flame of her charity and amid her loving sighs, gave one last greater sigh of love and expired and died. And so that great soul, that beautiful dove of the Lord, was loosed from the bonds of this life and departed for the blessed glory, where she sits and will sit as Queen of Paradise for all eternity.

Mary, then, has already left the earth; she is already in heaven. From there, the merciful Mother looks upon us who are still in this valley of tears, and she compassionates us and promises us her help, if we desire it. Let us always pray to her that by the merits of her blessed death she may obtain for us a happy death; and if it should please God, may she obtain for us to die on a Saturday — which is dedicated to her honor — or on a day during the novena or octave of one of her feasts, as she has obtained for so many of her devoted servants, especially for St. Stanislaus Kostka, for whom she obtained to die on the day of her glorious Assumption, as Father Bartoli narrates in his Life (Book 1, ch. 12).

Example

While this holy youth was living wholly devoted to the love of Mary, it happened that on the first day of August he heard a sermon by Father Peter Canisius, in which the latter, preaching to the novices of the Society, fervently urged them all to follow the great counsel of living each day as though it were the last of their lives, after which they would have to present themselves before the divine tribunal. When the sermon was finished, St. Stanislaus said to his companions that this counsel had been singularly for him a voice from God, since he was to die in that very month. He said this either because God expressly revealed it to him or at least because he gave him a certain interior sense of it, judging by what subsequently occurred. Four days later, the blessed youth, walking with Father Emmanuel Sa to the Basilica of St. Mary Major and entering upon a conversation about the approaching feast of the Assumption, said: "Father, I believe that on that day a new paradise was seen in paradise, beholding the glory of the Mother of God crowned Queen of Heaven and placed so near to the Lord, above all the choirs of angels. And if it is true, as I firmly believe, that the feast is renewed each year in heaven, I hope to see the next one." Then, St. Stanislaus having received by lot as his patron for the month — according to the custom of the Society — the glorious martyr St. Lawrence, it is reported that he wrote a letter to his Mother Mary, begging her to obtain for him to be present at that feast in paradise. On the feast of St. Lawrence he received Communion, and afterward besought the saint to present that letter to the divine Mother, adding his intercession so that the Blessed Virgin would grant his request. And behold, at the close of that same day a fever came upon him; and though it was very slight, from that moment he held the requested grace of his approaching death as certain. In fact, upon going to bed he said, all jubilant and smiling: "From this bed I shall rise no more." And to Father Claudio Acquaviva he added: "My Father, I believe St. Lawrence has already obtained the grace for me from Mary, to be in heaven for the feast of her Assumption." But no one paid attention to his words. When the vigil arrived, the illness continued to appear slight, but the saint told a brother that the following night he would die; and the brother answered: "Oh, brother, it would be a greater miracle to die of so small an illness than to recover from it." But behold, after midday he was seized by a mortal fainting spell, then began to break out in a cold sweat and lost all his strength. The superior hurried to him, and Stanislaus begged to be laid on the bare ground, to die as a penitent. This was granted to content him, and he was placed on the ground upon a thin mattress. He then made his confession and received Viaticum — not without the tears of all who attended him, for when the Blessed Sacrament entered the room they saw him all radiant with heavenly joy in his eyes and all aflame in his face with holy love, so that he seemed a seraph. He also received Extreme Unction, and meanwhile did nothing but now raise his eyes to heaven and now gaze upon, kiss, and lovingly press to his breast an image of Mary. A Father asked him: "What good is that rosary wrapped around your hand, if you cannot recite it?" He answered: "It serves to console me, since it is something of my Mother." "Oh, how much more then," the Father replied, "will you be consoled to see her and soon kiss her hand in heaven?" At that the saint, his face all ablaze, raised his hands high, thus expressing his desire to be soon in her presence. Then his dear Mother appeared to him, as he himself made known to those around him; and shortly after, at the break of dawn on the fifteenth of August, he breathed his last with the air of one blessed, his eyes fixed on heaven, without making any movement. So much so that when they afterward presented to him the image of the Blessed Virgin and saw that he no longer made any response toward her, they realized he had already passed on to kiss the feet of his beloved Queen in paradise.

Prayer

O most sweet Lady and Mother of ours, you have already left the earth and arrived at your kingdom, where you sit as Queen above all the choirs of angels, as the Church sings: Exaltata es super choros angelorum ad caelestia regna. We already know that we sinners were not worthy to have you with us in this valley of darkness. But we also know that in your greatness you have not forgotten us wretches, and that in being raised to such glory you have not lost, but rather have increased, your compassion toward us poor children of Adam. From the great throne where you reign, then, turn upon us also, O Mary, your merciful eyes and have pity on us. Remember too that in departing from this earth you promised not to forget us. Look upon us and help us. See in what storms and in how many dangers we constantly find ourselves, and shall find ourselves, until the end of our life arrives.

By the merits of your blessed death, obtain for us holy perseverance in divine friendship, so that we may finally depart this life in the grace of God and thus come one day to kiss your feet in paradise, joining those blessed spirits in praising you and singing your glories, as you deserve. Amen.