Closeness in Love

God is love. If we forget that, Christianity is emptied of meaning.  It was love that brought the Word-made-flesh into the womb of the Virgin Mary in the Incarnation. It was love that revealed to John the  Baptist that the Redeemer had come in today’s story of the Visitation.  Today, it is love that cares for the body of her who took care of the body of Jesus. 

God is love. That is the source of it all. There is no other. When you love someone, you want them near, close. The Greek word used for death in the New Testament is the opposite of that.  It means separation. To be dead means to be cut off, isolated, and alone—apart. 

In the Resurrection, God altered that isolation. God brought the human body of Jesus back to life, to be close. Stuff may still look the same on the surface, but God has transformed death in the depths of the earth.

I went to the garden to wrestle with that thought. As “the depths of the earth” simmered in my mind, I picked cherry tomatoes from plants that were ten feet high. Why so big? Last fall, I layered maple leaves and horse manure and then planted a cover crop; in spring,  I turned that decaying richness under. Now, here in August, on the surface, you cannot tell. But that unseen transformation in the depths of the earth has brought forth vibrant new life. 

Vibrant new life will be ours as well. All that decays? That will be transformed. We will be brought close, not be separated or isolated or lost. That is our hope: God brought Mary home, and will do the same for us. Body and soul, we will join with Jesus in heaven. 

For God is love. That is the goal of it all. There is no other. 

Consider/Discuss 

In the Creed, we say,” I believe in the resurrection of the body.” For two millennia, theologians have wrestled with what a resurrected body looks like. We can try, but we really cannot imagine it, for it is beyond our limited time-and-space-experience. (Analogies don’t always work perfectly  either.) But today’s feast of Mary’s assumption encourages us to believe that those whom God loves will ultimately be drawn close; we will become most fully ourselves, a unity of body and soul in heaven. That’s a hard thought. Spend some time thinking about it. (Maybe have a few cherry  tomatoes while you’re pondering it.) What does that mean to you and the  direction and goal of your life? 

Like the soil in a garden, the richness of a prayer life is hidden from  view. On the surface it may look the same whether we pray or not, but  the fruit is different. When we are washed by God’s love, that experience  transforms the junk of our life. When we have been cared about and  brought close, that affects how we care for others. Have you had seasons  when your prayer life was rich? What does that do for how you interact  with others? 

Living and Praying with the Word 

Great God of the Universe, it all begins and ends with you. Your  love surrounds us like a comforter on a cold night. You want us to  be close to you. You do not want us to be separated. Thank you for  sending your Son to transform death. That is not something that we  can fully grasp. But we believe. We cannot imagine what eternal life  with you will be like, but we look forward to it with joy. Mary our  Mother, on this feast day, we celebrate your assumption into heaven.  You are with your Son. Show us the way home. Keep us close.