As the Solemnity of the Assumption once more fades away for another year, some parting thoughts on the significance of the feast:

One: It’s a Pro-life Holy Day

Three unborn children appear in the readings for the Solemnity, one in the First Reading, two in the Gospel. The child in the First Reading — probably often overlooked in preaching — is the Son of the “Ark of the Covenant” in heaven. The identity of the “woman” in the First Reading is not unambiguous. In one context, it is the Blessed Virgin, given the Marian symbolism surrounding her (“a woman clothed with the sun, the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars,” e.g., the image of the Immaculate Conception duplicated on the Miraculous Medal). In another, it cannot be Mary, because this woman “wailed aloud in pain as she labored to give birth.” There is the tradition that Mary’s giving birth was painless because the pain of childbirth — like death — is presented (Gen 3:16) as a consequence of sin. What ought to be a natural and normal part of human participation in God’s ongoing work of creation is marred by resistance: the male, who must bring forth the fruit of the earth “by the sweat of his brow,” the female, who must bring forth the fruit of her womb “in painful labor.” That image can be the Church, laboring to bring forth the sons and daughters of God amidst the labor pangs of a new creation, in process but not yet fully revealed (Rom 8:19-25).

The “ark of the covenant” is a person — Mary or the Mystical Person of the Church — not a thing. Things don’t give birth. Which then raises an even deeper idea: The sacred tabernacle is not a tent in the desert but the womb of the Virgin and, by extension, every womb from whence comes a new person made “in the image and likeness of God.” It is not by exaggeration, then, that St. Paul speaks of “your body [as] a temple of the Holy Spirit” (I Cor 6:19-20). This is why the destruction of the fruit of the womb is also a sacrilege.

Why is this feast pro-life? Clearly the dragon is Satan, and he lurks in wait “to devour [the woman’s] child when she gives birth.” Satan did everything he could to destroy Christ, from inciting his “warm welcome” in his hometown where no prophet is honored except by being thrown off a cliff (Lk 4:29) to multiple attempts to stone Him to, finally, the Crucifixion, intended clearly to “prove” His rejection by God (see Dt 21:23). Satan also does everything he can to destroy the children of God, “prowling like a roaring lion” (I Pt 5:8), through temptation and spiritual assault. Satan especially hates life because, for all their perfection, angels do not have babies. God gave the power of creation to embodied beings, to human beings, who bring other “images of God” into this world. And it is no coincidence that, just as the dragon awaits the son of the “woman clothed with the sun” to devour him, he devours over a million babies annually in this country. It is no coincidence that the pagan idols to which Israel occasionally succumbed — Baal and Moloch — also demanded baby sacrifice (see, e.g., Lev 18:21).

The other reference to unborn babies is the Gospel, which recounts Mary’s visitation of Elizabeth. The primary focus of the Gospel on the Assumption is usually Mary’s canticle, the Magnificat, but we should not forget that it also reminds us of John the Baptist leaping at the presence of Jesus, something of which Elizabeth herself speaks (“trust women!”). As I have previously pointed out (here), in both instances the original Greek word used to describe this leaping John is βρέφος (brephos), translated “baby” regardless of birth. It is the same word used exactly in that way by Luke (e.g., to describe leaping unborn John in 1:41, 44 and the newborn Jesus wrapped in “swaddling clothes” (2:12) and the “baby” the angels tell the shepherds to look for (2:16). No Christian can pretend that the Gospel considers the unborn merely a “clump of tissue.”

Two: The Last Enemy is Death

The Second Reading connects the Assumption with the Resurrection. Jesus’ Resurrection is not just a singular event; it is the inauguration of a process that culminates in the resurrection of the body on the Last Day (see here and here). Paul speaks of Jesus’ Resurrection as the “first fruits,” referring to the practice in Judaism of offering the first crops gleaned from the harvest as representative of offering the entire yield. Jesus’ Resurrection is essential because it proves Jesus is Savior: if He frees us from sin by His Cross, He also frees us from the consequences of sin, which include death, by His Resurrection and, ultimately, ours. That is why St. Paul concludes the Reading with “the last enemy to be destroyed is death,” because it is the last trace of sin.

That perspective is blurred in our times. Whereas once doctors swore enmity against death, increasingly they prostitute their profession by making accommodations with it, e.g., “physician-assisted suicide” as a euphemism for killing the sick, “reproductive healthcare” as a slogan for killing the unborn, and “palliative care” as a pretense for lethal neglect of newborns (in violation of their 14^th Amendment Constitutional rights). But it’s not just doctors. They would not be making peace with death unless the culture did first, which is why Pope St. John Paul II was so prophetic when he described the contemporary struggle between a “culture of life” and a “culture of death.” This, too, is a question of faith. The Christian perspective is that death is “the enemy” to be vanquished, a consequence of sin. The contemporary, secular perspective is that death is at best ambivalent, sometimes even a legitimate “choice” (as if choosing evil can ever be morally good). Our confusion about freedom — tool in service of the good or end that establishes what is good — lurks in the background (see here).

Three: Mary’s Model of Greatness

Contemporary theology tends to focus on Mary as “first disciple.” As Mother of God, her privileges are unique. As a human person, she also models for us what man should be, i.e., man without the distorting consequences of sin.

Mary explains the source of her greatness: “the Almighty has done great things for me, holy is His Name!” Mary recognizes all that she has — from the natural fact of her life to the supernatural fact of her faith to the marvelous action of God in giving her a Son to that marvelous action in assuming her body and soul into heaven — are all God’s gifts. As Fr. Paul Scalia well put it, “Mary does not say: ‘Henceforth, all generations will call me blessed’… just look at my resumé!’ She says ‘the Almighty has done great things for me.’”

This is not to say Mary is passive. Mary consents to motherhood in the extraordinary way God proposed it to her because “I am the handmaid of the Lord.” Mary stands under the cross, suffering with her Son. Mary is not “devoid of agency,” as people today might put it. She is the perfect illustration of grace — which comes first — and the response to grace. At the same time, that response also teaches us what freedom is: Mary responds according to the good, i.e., according to God’s Will. Even before her Son could teach a bunch of fishermen, a tax collector, and a thief to pray “Thy will be done,” Mary knew freedom did not mean “my will be done” but “not my will, but Thine, be done” (Lk 22:42).

So, Mary also teaches us that God’s grace, which comes first, demands the right response of our action. In most instances, that involves simply letting God act. Traditional Catholic sacramental theology affirmed that the sacraments “work” by virtue of their sign: in other words, the sacraments will do what they are intended to do, e.g., justify, reconcile, strengthen, heal, unite, etc. provided we do not put a barrier — the barrier of our will — in the way. The sacraments are not magic — we have our part — but God’s part is first and foremost. Traditional Scholastic theology spoke of it as “non ponentibus obicem,” not to place an obstacle (such as our rejection or grudging acceptance) in the way of God’s grace. Moderns might put it simply: “let go and let God.”

But that is extremely hard for moderns, for whom “autonomy” and “control” are idols. Jesus already spoke to such illusions when he addressed the man who, having had a good harvest, forgot the first fruits are God’s. Instead, ascribing his bounty to his diligence and prudence (he put up extra silos) as well as a dash of good luck, he tells himself “eat, drink, and be merry!” God tells him, “You fool! This very night your life will be demanded of you!” (Lk 12:19-20)

So, will we be fools? Or, like Mary, will we recognize that the “Almighty has done [and will do] great things” for us if we just allow Him? Because “eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered the heart of man what great things God has prepared for them that love Him” (I Cor 2:9).