Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
By St. Alphonsus de Liguori
On this day, the Church celebrates, in honor of Mary, two solemn festivals: the first is that of her happy passage from this world; the second, that of her glorious Assumption into Heaven.
In the present discourse, we shall speak of her happy passage from this world; and in the next, of her glorious Assumption.
How precious was the death of Mary!
Death being the punishment for sin, it would seem that the Divine Mother, all holy and exempt as she was from its slightest stain, should also have been exempt from death and from encountering the misfortunes to which the children of Adam, infected by the poison of sin, are subject. But God was pleased that Mary should in all things resemble Jesus; and as the Son died, it was becoming that the Mother should also die; because, moreover, He wished to give the just an example of the precious death prepared for them, He willed that even the most Blessed Virgin should die, but by a sweet and happy death. Let us, therefore, now consider how precious Mary's death was: first, on account of the special favors by which it was accompanied; secondly, on account of the manner in which it took place.
There are three things which render death bitter: attachment to the world, remorse for sins, and the uncertainty of salvation. The death of Mary was entirely free from these causes of bitterness, and was accompanied by three special graces, which rendered it precious and joyful. She died as she had lived, entirely detached from the things of the world; she died in the most perfect peace; she died in the certainty of eternal glory.
And in the first place, there can be no doubt that attachment to earthly things renders the death of the worldly bitter and miserable, as the Holy Ghost says: "O death, how bitter is the remembrance of thee to a man who hath peace in his possessions!'' But because the Saints die detached from the things of the world, their death is not bitter, but sweet, lovely, and precious; that is to say, as Saint Bernard remarks, worth purchasing at any price, however great. Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. Who are they who, being already dead, die? They are those happy souls who pass into eternity already detached, and, so to say, dead to all affection for terrestrial things; and who, like Saint Francis of Assisi, found in God alone all their happiness, and with him could say, 'My God and my all.' But what soul was ever more detached from earthly goods, and more united to God, than the beautiful soul of Mary? She was detached from her parents; for at the age of three years, when children are most attached to them and stand in the greatest need of their assistance, Mary, with the greatest intrepidity, left them and went to shut herself up in the temple to attend to God alone. She was detached from riches, contenting herself to be always poor, and supporting herself with the labour of her own hands. She was detached from honours, loving a humble and abject life, though the honours due to a queen were hers, as she was descended from the kings of Israel. The Blessed Virgin herself revealed to Saint Elizabeth of Hungary that when her parents left her in the temple, she resolved in her heart to have no father, and to love no other good than God.
Saint John saw Mary represented in that woman, clothed with the sun, who held the moon under her feet. And a great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet. Interpreters explain the moon to signify the goods of this world, which, like her, are uncertain and changeable. Mary never had these goods in her heart, but always despised them and trampled them under her feet; living in this world as a solitary turtle-dove in a desert, never allowing her affection to centre itself on any earthly thing; so that of her it was said: The voice of the turtle is heard in our land. And elsewhere: Who is she that goeth up by the desert? When the Abbot Rupert says: Thus didst thou go up by the desert; that is, having a solitary soul, Mary, then, having lived always and in all things detached from the earth, and united to God alone, death was not bitter, but, on the contrary, very sweet and dear to her; since it united her more closely to God in heaven, by an eternal bond.
Secondly, peace of mind renders the death of the just precious. Sins committed during life are the worms which so cruelly torment and gnaw the hearts of poor dying sinners, who, about to appear before the Divine tribunal, see themselves at that moment surrounded by their sins, which terrify them and cry out, according to Saint Bernard, 'We are thy works; we will not abandon thee.' Mary certainly could not be tormented at death by any remorse of conscience, for she was always pure and always free from the least shade of actual or original sin; so much so that of her it was said: "Thou art all fair, O my love, and there is not a spot in thee." From the moment that she had the use of reason, that is, from the first moment of her Immaculate Conception in the womb of Saint Anne, she began to love God with all her strength, and continued to do so, always advancing more and more throughout her whole life in love and perfection. All her thoughts, desires, and affections were of and for God alone. She never uttered a word, made a movement, cast a glance, or breathed, but for God and His glory; and never departed a step or detached herself for a single moment from the Divine love. Ah, how all the lovely virtues she had practised during life surrounded her blessed bed in the happy hour of her death! That faith so constant; that loving confidence in God; that unconquerable patience in the midst of so many sufferings; that humility in the midst of so many privileges; that modesty; that meekness; that tender compassion for souls; that insatiable zeal for the glory of God; and, above all, that most perfect love towards Him, with that entire uniformity to the Divine will: all, in a word, surrounded her, and consoling her, said: 'We are thy works; we will not abandon thee.' Our Lady and Mother, we are all daughters of thy beautiful heart; now that thou art leaving this miserable life, we will not leave thee. We also will go, and be thy eternal accompaniment and honour in Paradise, where, by our means, thou wilt reign as Queen of all men and of all angels.
In the third place, the certainty of eternal salvation renders death sweet. Death is called a passage; for by death we pass from a short to an eternal life. And as the dread of those is indeed great who die in doubt of their salvation, and who approach the solemn moment with well-grounded fear of passing into eternal death; thus, on the other hand, the joy of the Saints is indeed great at the close of life, holding with some security to go and possess God in heaven.
