When we think about the feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, our minds almost automatically turn upwards: we imagine clouds, angels, glory, and Mary ascending to the highest place. And that is fine, because today we celebrate that God wanted to reward his Mother with the very best. But if we look at the Gospel that the Church offers us for this day, we discover that it does not speak to us about the end of Mary’s life, but about its beginnings. It takes us to a mountain path, on a journey on foot, to the house of her cousin Elizabeth.
There is a beautiful secret hidden in this: Mary’s journey towards heaven (her Assumption) truly began on the day she set out to serve her cousin (the Visitation). The woman who today is crowned in the highest place is the same woman who first knew how to come down into the mud of everyday life in order to lend a hand.
For us, Mary is not a plaster statue on an altar, nor a distant figure from history. She is our Mother. And like a good mother, she does not give us long theological speeches that are difficult to understand; she teaches us through her own life. The account of the Visitation tells us that, as soon as she learned that she was going to be the Mother of Jesus, Mary “set out and went in haste.”
Think about that for a moment! Humanly speaking, Mary had a thousand reasons to stay at home. She had just received the most astonishing news in history; she had to take in everything that was happening to her, the fears, the doubts of those around her… Any one of us might have withdrawn into ourselves, thinking: “Now I have to take care of myself.” But with Mary, exactly the opposite happens. When God enters her life, she does not close herself in; she opens herself. God’s grace does not make her comfortable; it sets her in motion. Mary’s “haste” is not stress; it is the impulse of love. She cannot keep Jesus only for herself.
Thus, quietly and without making any fuss, Mary becomes the first tabernacle in the world. She walks through the mountains carrying Jesus in her womb. She is the first missionary. And she leaves us a lesson that touches us deeply: when we allow God to enter our lives, it is not so that we can remain floating in a bubble of spiritual peace, but so that we may get up from the sofa and go out to meet others.
When Mary arrives at Elizabeth’s house, she does not come boasting about her titles or demanding to be served because she is the chosen one. She comes to do the housework, to care for an elderly woman in the final months of a difficult pregnancy. She comes to sweep, to cook, to listen and to accompany. Her “Yes” to God did not remain beautiful words; it was translated into clean dishes, embraces and quiet service.
But look at what happens: as soon as Mary greets Elizabeth, the child in Elizabeth’s womb leaps for joy and the house is filled with the Holy Spirit. Mary’s humble service carries God’s own music. Sometimes we think that, in order to do something great for the Church or for the world, we have to be very important people or give great speeches. Mary shows us that the simplest service, when it is done with love and with God in our hearts, has the power to transform the atmosphere of a home. Elizabeth notices it immediately and is deeply moved: “Who am I that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” Mary’s greatness shines more brightly than ever when she is wearing the apron of a servant.
The crowning moment of this encounter is the Magnificat, that beautiful song in which Mary opens her heart wide. Instead of applauding herself for how good she is, she describes herself as the “handmaid,” the humble servant whom God has looked upon with love. And she sings with contagious joy because she knows that God has a special tenderness for simple people: he brings down the proud, sends the rich away empty-handed and, instead, fills the hungry with good things and lifts up the humble.
Mary teaches us that true freedom and true happiness do not consist in always getting our own way or seeking success at any cost. Mary’s secret was to empty herself of her own plans in order to make room for God’s plans. And God’s plans are always plans of love, justice and service.
Today, as we celebrate the Assumption, we look towards heaven with hope. Mary is there above because she first knew how to be here below, beside the person who needed her. Her Assumption is like a pat on the back that God gives us today, reminding us that no life given to others out of love is ever lost in emptiness. Every time we get up in haste to lend a hand, every time we serve with humility and every time we trust God even though we do not understand anything, we are taking a step along that same path that led Mary directly to heaven.
And this wonderful harmony between saying “Yes” and setting out on the journey takes on a deeply meaningful and distinctive force for us, the Dominican Sisters of the Anunciata. It was precisely on this beautiful feast of the Assumption, in the distant year of 1856, that our beloved Father Saint Francis Coll founded our Congregation.
For us, this day is the beating heart of our history. Our very name evokes the mystery of the Annunciation (the “Yes” of Nazareth), but our birth date is forever marked by the Gospel of the Visitation. Our founder perfectly understood Mary’s haste: he saw the need, the lack of education and the thirst for light among so many girls and young women in the villages, and he sent us to walk through the “mountains” of society, carrying the torch of Truth.
Celebrating the Assumption today is, for each one of us, an opportunity to give thanks for the gift of our Dominican charism. It reminds us that, since that year 1856, each of our schools, missions, communities and everyday gestures of service continues to be a living extension of Mary’s Visitation. Today we joyfully renew our commitment, asking for the grace to continue being women of the “Yes,” who rise in haste to kindle the light of the Gospel in the hearts of the simplest and most vulnerable. Happy Feast of the Assumption and happy anniversary of our foundation!
Sr. Amaia Labarta Rodríguez
Province Rosa Santaeugenia
