Immaculate Conception
December 8, 2017
Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB
Where
shall we start? In a dark world? In a cave somewhere in the outposts of
civilization? In a barren field, somewhere on the outskirts of town? In a drug
den in some nameless city? In an emergency room?
Where
shall we start? In the middle of a fight? In a conundrum?
Where does
the story of our Fall begin? Does it begin in the dirt from which we were
created? Does it begin with some naked worm that got picked up in our
primordial matter?
Where
shall we begin to think about persons, about personality? Do we begin with
Adam’s eyes, with Eve’s smile? Was there tragedy already foretold in the smile
or reflected in the eyes?
They came
into the world, just appearing. They were given everything, not even knowing for
what to ask. They had it all and they fell. They fell hard, hard upon the
ground from which they came.
How can
there be anything, any thinking, after the Fall? After that forbidden tree and
its voluptuous, sticky ripeness, its intoxication, its pure, adulterated …
temptation?
How can
there be anything outside of God’s promise, his love, his comfort, his
perfection?
How can we
think about uprightness when the bend in the collective spine is so pronounced?
How can we look up to the stars when my sinning hand, my corrupt arm, is poised
before my eyes?
How can we
be something when our something stands on the other side of a chasm, a chasm
that can hardly be breached by sight, much less by physical exertion?
Where are
you the Lord said to Adam?
Where are
you the Lord says to us. He asks us where we are. Do we know where we are?
Are we
free men and women or are we wrapped in the adamantine chains of our parents?
Are we
free men and women or are we predestined?
Are we
free men and women or do we hesitate to taste the air of liberty even if we
could sniff it out.
Do we
prize the wasteland? Are we heaped in piles only upon the barren rocks of our
lack of collective imagination?
Brothers
and sisters, do we even want to stand up?
And so for
generations, for ages upon ages, for fourteen generations, and then fourteen
generations and then fourteen generations, they came, the searchers came, the
prophets came, and the judges came. They all came and their tears showered the
barren ground, they wept out the bitterness of exile, slavery, hopelessness.
For
fourteen generations and then, fourteen more, they plowed out their frustration
as their eyes surveyed the chasm and the image of God became dimmer, greatly
dimmer.
They
searched and squinted across time and could not find, could not imagine the
promise.
Like
serpents, on our bellies we crawled. We tasted dirt.
And there
was nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
And then …
One day, in God’s own fiat, he sent an angel. An angel departed from the
imperium, far away. An angel departed, full of furtive feathers, feathers
scampering across the skies like flights of loose birds.
An angel
departed and went to the most obscure place on the earth. He went, not to Eden
or the east of Eden, not to the halls of power, not to Rome, not to Jerusalem.
Perhaps he
needed a map, but he went to Nazareth.
Now … Here
is the mud house. Here is the hotness of the day. Here is the open window. Here
is the rag before the door. Here is the darkness lurking within, the darkness
no lamp can relieve. Here is the loamy scent. Here is the girl. Here is the
girl dressed in her only robe. Here is the girl, now cowering in the corner.
Here is the girl long prepared. Here is the girl miraculously, immaculately
conceived. Here is the girl with curiosity in her eyes.
It is
curious, it is not usual for a great feathered angel to insinuate himself into
your house. He had to scale down for the dark and loamy hut in Nazareth could
not hold the imperium, or even its ambassador, or so it seemed.
Hail full
of grace. Did she know she was full of grace? Had her mother told her she was
full of grace?
Hail, the
Lord is with you. It seemed like it must be for how can God’s ambassador, this
great winged creature get into her house?
There is a
message and here it is: You, unknown one, you, prepared one, you are about to
right the wrong inflicted so long ago on the world by our parents. You, you
small person, person lurking in the dark corners, you are about to correct the
tilt of the world, a world slouching for countless generations toward oblivion.
The
generations were slouching toward oblivion and they now depended, we now
depended upon the response of a girl, prepared certainly, but also free.
The world
held its breath for a moment, we, in anticipation held our breath for a moment,
future ages held their breath for a moment. Nature held her breath for a
moment. Did God hold his breath for a moment?
Just a
moment
And then …
Let it be.
And now
everything is reversed and the imperium, appears in time. God appears again in
time, not traipsing around a garden, not
standing in the fog on the other side of a chasm. God stands in time as an
embryo, a zygote. God became a cell embedded in the womb of the prepared one.
God became a freak, one of us.
And the
angel swept away, leaving molting feathers in his wake.
One
greater than angels was here now, crouching in
potentia in the womb of an obscure girl.
And now
brothers and sisters, now because of the fiat, because of the yes.
We can
stand upright.
We can
stand on two feet.
We can
survey the world with undimmed eyes.
Because of
the yes.
We can
look at ourselves in the mirror, in the clear, still water of the baptizing
place again.
We can
look at ourselves with God’s pride.
Because of
the yes
We can say
yes
We can say yes
Will we
say yes?
Will we
put aside the crippling heritage and look to the promise?
Will we
say yes with outstretched hands as the child of Mary comes to us today?
The child
of Mary comes to us today. He comes to us today like the rising SON shining
across the sky, ready to brighten the dark places of our lives.
Here again
is what St. Paul said to the Ephesians
In him we were also chosen.
Destined in accord with the purpose of the One
Who accomplishes all things according to the intention of his will
So that we might exist for the praise of his Glory
We who
first hoped … in Christ.
