The Weight of Glory

On Mother's Day, I thought I would post a short tribute to all of those who, though not married, share in the gift of motherhood in some way, whether as consecrated religious, or as single women in the world. This life, when lived authentically, shares in the rich mystery of virginal motherhood presented to us by the Church. It is part of what the Pope means, I think, when he refers to the "genius of women."

St. Gregory Nazianzen wrote a splendid verse in praise of virginity. At first when I read it I thought the language was rather overdone, aimed at extolling the value of virginity. What it actually says is that there is a model for virginity that is higher than the Church, higher even than Mary: the Trinity! "The first Virgin," he says, "is the holy Trinity." On further reflection I found, once again, that the Fathers never say anything just for the sake of it, without an objective and profound reason. Yes, the first virgin really is the holy Trinity, not just because the first generation of the Word by the Father is virginal, but also because the Trinity created the universe alone, without the aid of any other principle, not even some kind of "pre-existing matter." It created out of nothing, virginally. In every act of sexual procreation there is an element of selfishness and desire. When a man and a woman produce a child, they give a gift, certainly, but they also "gift each other." They need the encounter with the other for their own fulfillment and enrichment. On the other hand, when the Trinity creates, it confers fulfillment. Since it is already perfectly happy and complete in itself, it has no need of further fulfillment. "You have created all things," says Eucharistic Prayer IV, "to fill your creatures with every blessing and lead all men to the joyful vision of your light."

Here, virginity shows its most beautiful characteristic, which is gratuity. Christian virgin men and women imitate this gratuity to some degree when they love and care for children who are not their own according to the flesh, nurse the sick people of others, care for people's old folk, and when -- especially in the case of the Church's clositered monks and nuns -- they carry the weight of other people's sins, bringing them before God in intercession for the world. "At certain hours of the day and night" -- we read in a medieval Rule for cloistered women -- "hold in your hearts all the sick and afflicted who suffer pain or poverty, and think of the torments endured by those lying in prison in heavy iron fetters... With hearts full of compassion, think of those undergoing grave trials. Keep in your hearts the pains of all these people, and ask Our Lord with sighs to have mercy on them and to turn His merciful countenance towards them." Certainly such a life cannot be called sterile when it is lived with a vision as broad as the world itself.

The virgin's fruitfulness is spousal in nature. Children are begotten through union with a spouse, and in fact the virgin, "living for the Lord without distractions," as St. Paul would say, brings forth children for Christ. When we priests come across souls so sunk in evil that we are unable to bring them back to the light alone, to whom do we turn? We knock at the door of some convent of nuns and entrust the person to a bride of Christ. Time and again in such cases we witness the miracle of a resurrection, even though we will never know (God alone knows) what that miracle has cost. One day, when these virgins set foot in the heavenly Jerusalem and meet those sons and daughters they never knew they had, they too will exclaim in amazement, "Who has borne me these? I was bereft and barren; who has reared these?" (Is. 49:21).

The fruitfulness of the cloistered virgin depends on the fact that, by prayer, silent faith, hope and love, she acts directly on the primary cause, which is God, not on the secondary causes. And it is the Bridegroom Who distributes her fruits to His friends. With the bride in the Song of Songs, she says to Christ: "My most exquisite fruits I have reserved for you, my Love" (cf. Sg. 7:14). And the Bridegroom answers, "I come into my garden, my sister, my promised bride, I pick my myrrh and balsam." Then, turning to sinners, He says: "Eat, friends, and drink, drink deep, my dearest friends" (Sg. 5:1). The bride does not wish to know who is to benefit from the fruits of her prayers and sufferings. They belong to the Bridegroom, Who gives them to Whom He will. Others will have to worry about how to distribute and administer them. It is not her concern. Truly, the Lord "lets the barren woman be seated at home, the happy mother of children" (Ps. 113:9).

- Raniero Cantalamessa, OFM Cap, from his book entitled Virginity