A few days ago I was visiting with my mother’s cousin Susanna in Boston. We had dinner and were able to catch up on things, especially since she lost her husband Andrew last March. She cooked me dinner and sent me off with an Armenian recipe to cook for dinner for the guys in the house I live in.
Near the end of our time, she took out a long paper written by her granddaughter Sandra. “I’ve got to show you this paper that Sandra wrote for a class. I’ve read this every day since I got it. You won’t believe that a 17-year-old wrote it. I think it should be published somewhere. Would you like to read it?” Sure.
I sat for about 20 minutes reading eight pages of some of the most beautiful and creative writing I could imagine. Sandra wrote a second-person letter-type narrative to her grandfather, describing the story of his last year or so, with personal anecdotes from the past inserted now and then. She explained how he was her personal friend and tutor in her schoolwork as a little girl, teaching her how to approach problems steadily and methodically, step-by-step. She described how he raised her up to put her on his shoulders to see at Mass. She described with stories his noble virtue that combined an outgoing personality and creative sense of humor with strength and discipline. The inspiration of his faith and hope and love throughout his cancerous illness. She explained how she always admired him so much.
And, in the hospital rehab, she tells a story of a nurse coming in, looking at her, and saying to them, “Now I know you two are definitely related.” He said to her afterwards, “You are my mirror.” I thought to myself, come to think of it, whenever I’ve seen a picture with the two of them in it, they are embracing.
In this paper, she opened her heart to him and the reader. A young girl was revealing a relationship with a grandfather who lived in some of the deepest parts of her heart.
When I was done, Susanna took the paper from me, looked right at me, and said, “Now, after reading that, do you know Andrew?” I knew what she meant. She saw that there was nothing else that made him present like that paper. That’s why she reads it every day.
“It’s like he’s present. It’s her witness.”
That’s what it is to be a mirror. If you want to know Andrew, then you meet Sandra. Nothing else makes him present like she does.
Mary is the Mirror of God her Father. The great perk, the perk, of being the Mirror of God is that you make Him present in your very own flesh. That’s what happened with Mary, right? Her Son Jesus has all His humanity from her. He is God made present in her very own flesh.
The perk of being the Mirror of God is that you are the Mother of God.
If you want to know God, then you meet Mary. Nothing else makes Him present like she does.
Do you want people to know God? Let Him live with you, be your shelter, raise you up, be your grandfather. Then, when people see your love for Him, when they see your witness, they will know Him. You will become His mirror, and He will be present in your flesh.
And you too will be His mother.
“Who is my mother, and who are my brethren?” And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brethren! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother, and sister, and mother.” (Mt 12:49-50)
Happy Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God!