ALMOST … All generations will call me blessed

A former coworker, a Protestant, with all sincerity and goodwill, gave me a book by Max Lucado, God Came Near. Never having been a fan of Prot Pulp Lit, I’d never heard of the author. Gosh, was I ever shocked! I had no idea that mainstream Christians would accept such irreverence. Even President Bush consults the man! For instance, Lucado, speaking of St Joseph’s struggle with Mary’s pregnancy, writes: “He [St Joseph] took cold showers for nine months so the baby could be born of a virgin.” When I read that sentence, I put the book aside. Crossed myself. Tried to breathe. I felt like I had sinned by reading those words. Crossed myself again.

I remember the first time I ever prayed to Mary, the Theotokos. I was an Episcopalian seminarian going through the process toward ordination in the Diocese of Western North Carolina. The bishop, in hopes of changing my mind about women’s ordination, had my wife and I to spend a weekend with a “clergy couple.” The idea was that through experiencing a woman as a priest, I would better understand and, the hope was, accept.

The husband & wife were both very nice, very hospitable. Though we disagreed on much, our time with them was pleasant. On Saturday night, while we were clearing the table, the priestess asked me to serve in the altar the next day. I tried my best to humbly decline — in fact, that’s exactly what I did. But, she said, “I’m sure that’s why the bishop sent you here.” I told her that the bishop was not able to enforce my service in the altar nor reception of communion. I kept trying to convince her that it was nothing personal, but I just couldn’t. I hated to do it, but had to tell her: “I can’t receive tomorrow.” Well, the honeymoon was over.

Having relented and accepted that I was not going to serve (though it was printed in the bulletin as such), she served in the altar with her all-female staff of acolytes while my wife and I did our best to look invisible. It was the tiniest church I’d ever been in. It had the seating capacity of thirty-seven — 37! So when everyone took communion and there were two who refrained … We were very visible.

I struggle with people-pleasing and that situation called for an extra dollop of stress. For whatever reason, for the first time, I asked the Mother of God to help me. I thought she would understand. I was desperate. While begging her aid — almost immediately — I felt a warm and comforting feeling that was both head & heart. She “said” everything was going to be alright. I put “said” in quotation marks because it was more of an overall body sense than mere cognizance. I almost wept. There I was, just moments earlier, having a major Maalox moment which became transformed by a Mary moment. I became devoted from that moment on. It was a wonderful blessing and gift — not exactly, I suspect, what the bishop had planned. The Lord works in mysterious ways! 🙂

Back to Lucado. I guess I should be more forgiving of my Protestant brother. He may not know any better. Yet, his Protestant forebearers– Luther, Calvin & Zwingli — sure did!

The Church’s teaching and devotion concerning Mary, the Mother of God, was originally part of the dogma. By dogma I mean “family secret.” The kerygma (Good News of Christ) was preached on the street corners; the dogma was entrusted to those who had been initiated into the Faith. Today, we live in a different world. I wish I could help Max Lucado appreciate the fullness of the Faith. I’d like to introduce him to Mary, the Mother of God — even to her most chaste spouse, St Joseph the Betrothed.

Much like when you get a Christmas present that you really don’t want, I was speechless when I was given Lucado’s book. Lacking better words, I said: “Oh! Okay. I’ll give you a complete book report!” [I never did.] But, if by chance my [former] coworker stumbles onto this blog post: “Thanks! You’ve helped me remember who I am and from whence I came.”

Most Holy Theotokos, pray to God for us that our souls may be saved!