Every Mother’s Day, I begin Mass by asking all the moms to raise their hands, which is always followed with applause. I then ask who catches themselves sounding just like their moms. Of course, everyone laughs, and every hand goes up.
The best gift a mother gives her children is her voice when she’s not there. As with me, that happens when I run a load of laundry, and she again reminds me to separate the colors from the whites.
And yet, I’m convinced we just don’t sound only like our mothers, but that they echo the generations before them. In other words, we are not quite as original as we might think we are.
The best insights of a mother often echo the family wisdom of earlier generations. The Apostle Paul saw this in the family of the early Christian leader, Timothy, when he wrote: “I recall your sincere faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and that I am confident lives also in you.” [2 Timothy 1:5]
Pope Leo reflected on the Hail Mary during his May 8 visit to Pompeii
If the Liturgy of the Hours marks the rhythm of the Church’s praise, the Rosary marks the rhythm of our life, continually bringing it back to Jesus and the Eucharist.
Generations of believers have been shaped and sustained by this prayer, which is simple and popular, yet at the same time capable of reaching mystical heights and serving as a treasure-trove of the most essential Christian theology. For what could be more essential than the mysteries of Christ, than His holy Name, spoken with the tenderness of the Virgin Mary? It is in this Name, and in no other, that we can be saved (cf. Acts 4:12).
By repeating it in every Hail Mary, we in some way experience the home of Nazareth, almost hearing once more the voices of Mary and Joseph during the long years when Jesus lived with them.
We also experience the Upper Room, where the Apostles, together with Mary, awaited the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.
This is what the first reading pointed out to us. How can we fail to imagine that, in that time between the Ascension and Pentecost, Mary and the Apostles vied with one another in recalling the various moments of Jesus’ life? Not a single detail was to be overlooked! Everything was to be remembered, assimilated, imitated.
I witnessed that connection in a very personal way long ago. My mother was 22 years old when her mother (my grandmother) died. At 22, my mother was in that transitional period when her mother’s guidance would have taken on an added meaning. When she married my father, when she had children, and when her three children tested her patience, her mother wasn’t physically there.
With time, I flew the nest into the world when, at age 28, I heard the Holy Spirit calling me to be a priest. On a Saturday morning, I drove to my parents’ house. They were having breakfast when I told them that I’d be leaving my job at a semiconductor company to study to be a priest. I must have caught them off guard because they got quiet … really quiet. I then told them I‘d be on the driveway washing my car.
Twenty minutes passed before Mom walked out to where I was. She paused while I hosed off my car. When I looked up, she said that her mother would be proud. She again paused, then gave me a hug and a kiss.
It took some time, but I came to see that Mom never stopped being her mother’s daughter. Forty-three years had passed since her mother’s death, but she continued to consult with her and to hear her voice. Their mother-daughter relationship lasted well beyond the grave. Grandma had always been in the house with us.
Slowly, my child’s awareness gave way to understanding Mom’s continuing relationship with her mother. When I announced my new direction in life, Mom went to the all-important touchstone of her mother. Forty-three years after her mother’s death, she continued to consult her and clearly heard her voice.
In the month of May, as we think of Our Lady and of our mothers on earth, we celebrate more than what mothers do for us. We celebrate the great gift of their voice — a voice that guides us and reassures us … even 43 years later.
And sometimes we hear it again, even while running a load of laundry.
