Finding Sanctuary in Prayer

Homily for the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

January 1, 2021

The story is told of a place far out into the Arabian Desert, so far out that very few people have even heard of it. There, in the middle of nowhere, stands a small fortress. In silence and isolation, it rises out of the timeless sands, ready to offer sanctuary and provisions to anyone who comes upon it.

It is said that Thomas E. Lawrence, better known as “Lawrence of Arabia,” found refuge in the little fortress countless times. When under attack, often against overwhelming odds, he would make his way to the remote desert sanctuary. It was his life support, a lifeline, that provided him with food, water, safety, and the opportunity to regroup, so that when he was ready, he could face the world again.

In our gospel today we have the following reference to Mary: “And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” The Greek word in the original includes the idea of “treasuring” and “keeping safe”. After Mary’s initial visit from the angel Gabriel, asking if she would consent to be God’s son, Mary has had a long journey of about a hundred miles while pregnant. Then there’s no room in the inn or anywhere else, so she has to give birth in an animal stall. Now she hears the shepherds telling their part of the story. Like her, they have encountered angels, telling them the incredible news of a Savior being born for them, for the poor, in a poor setting. And Mary, exhausted, running on empty, not knowing what will happen or who will show up next, “kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”

Mary had a sanctuary, not in the middle of the desert, but in the middle of all the hubbub and chaos of her life. She had an inner sanctuary wherein she could take some deep breaths, close her eyes, and turn to God in prayer. There she could experience the safety, the protection, the peace and the comfort you get when you enter into conscious communion with God. There she could find sustenance and renewed strength, so that she could then be ready to face the world again—refreshed, uplifted and empowered.

There are in all our lives moments when we experience exhaustion, exasperation and overload. We are living in such a moment now: people becoming ill and dying in the pandemic, people losing their jobs, students having to learn remotely, hour after hour of depressing news reports, having to be so careful—wearing masks, keeping social distance—and on and on. It just gets to be too much. Well, the good news is that we can do what Mary did: enter into our sanctuary of prayer, where we have treasured and kept safe better memories that can renew and restore us: memories of angels and shepherds, and magi, and the magic of childhood, and stockings hung by the chimney with care, and relatives gathering for a feast, for unto us is born a Savior, Christ the Lord.

When we feel tattered and worn, Mary reminds us that, even in the midst of chaos, Jesus is born, our God is with us, and deep within we have these treasured memories, in a sanctuary of conscious contact with God. On that Christmas day long ago, “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” We have the ability to do the same, and thus find needed sanctuary in prayer.

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