Domus Aurea!

Ave Maria! Earlier this week I reflected on Tolkien's observation that "All that is gold does not glitter" (here and here). There are a few chosen souls, however, whose entire lives have been so continually and carefully burnished by the grace and love of God that they have become gold that doesn't just glitter but simply dazzles. There is one in particular who arises like the dawn, fair as the moon and as resplendent as the sun (Song of Songs 6:10). Did the psalmist anticipate her when he exclaimed, "With you is the fountain of life, and in your light, we see light" (Psalm 36:10)? It is Our Lady! Mary, who carried in her womb "with love beyond all telling" our Lord Jesus Christ, who is forever the light of the world! Ave Maria, Domus Aurea! Hail Mary, House of Gold!

Again I turn to Bl. John Henry Cardinal Newman, this time to his Meditations on the Litany of Loretto, which include a reflection on Mary, the house of Gold.

Mary is the "Domus Aurea," the House of Gold

Why is she called a House? And why is she called Golden? Gold is the most beautiful, the most valuable, of all metals. Silver, copper, and steel may in their way be made good to the eye, but nothing is so rich, so splendid, as gold. We have few opportunities of seeing it in any quantity; but anyone who has seen a large number of bright gold coins knows how magnificent is the look of gold. Hence it is that in Scripture the Holy City is, by a figure of speech, called Golden. "The City," says St. John, "was pure gold, as it were transparent glass." He means of course to give us a notion of the wondrous beautifulness of heaven, by comparing it with what is the most beautiful of all the substances which we see on earth.

Therefore it is that Mary too is called golden; because her graces, her virtues, her innocence, her purity, are of that transcendent brilliancy and dazzling perfection, so costly, so exquisite, that the angels cannot, {16} so to say, keep their eyes off her any more than we could help gazing upon any great work of gold.

But observe further, she is a golden house, or, I will rather say, a golden palace. Let us imagine we saw a whole palace or large church all made of gold, from the foundations to the roof; such, in regard to the number, the variety, the extent of her spiritual excellences, is Mary.

But why called a house or palace? And whose palace? She is the house and the palace of the Great King, of God Himself. Our Lord, the Co-equal Son of God, once dwelt in her. He was her Guest; nay, more than a guest, for a guest comes into a house as well as leaves it. But our Lord was actually born in this holy house. He took His flesh and His blood from this house, from the flesh, from the veins of Mary. Rightly then was she made to be of pure gold, because she was to give of that gold to form the body of the Son of God. She was golden in her conception, golden in her birth. She went through the fire of her suffering like gold in the furnace, and when she ascended on high, she was, in the words of our hymn,

Above all the Angels in glory untold, / Standing next to the King in a vesture of gold.

Bl. John Henry Cardinal Newman
Meditations on the Litany of Loretto, for the Month of May

Mary, Virgin of Advent, help me to yield in obedience and faith as you did to the burnishing of God so that I too may shine with His everlasting radiance. Amen.

More Gold That Does Not Glitter

Ave Maria! Yesterday when I was thinking about that line from Tolkien, "All that is gold does not glitter," (and which I mentioned in my blog post of yesterday) a Christmas carol I learned many long years ago came to mind. It's a charming traditional Christmas song that has been around for quite some time, called "The Friendly Beasts". As the song unfolds, each of the various animals gathered around the crib of the Holy Child of Bethlehem tells of the gift he gave to Immanuel. Nothing spectacular or showy here -- just ordinary gifts from ordinary but friendly beasts who recognized the Real Treasure laying in the manger and and paid Him homage.

The Friendly Beasts

Jesus our brother, kind and good
Was humbly born in a stable rude
And the friendly beasts around Him stood,
Jesus our brother, kind and good.

"I," said the donkey, shaggy and brown,
"I carried His mother up hill and down;
I carried her safely to Bethlehem town."
"I," said the donkey, shaggy and brown.

"I," said the cow all white and red
"I gave Him my manger for His bed;
I gave him my hay to pillow his head."
"I," said the cow all white and red.

"I," said the sheep with curly horn,
"I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm;
He wore my coat on Christmas morn."
"I," said the sheep with curly horn.

"I," said the dove from the rafters high,
"I cooed Him to sleep so He would not cry;
We cooed him to sleep, my mate and I."
"I," said the dove from the rafters high.

Thus every beast by some good spell,
In the stable dark was glad to tell
Of the gift he gave Immanuel,
The gift he gave Immanuel.
"I," was glad to tell
Of the gift he gave Immanuel,
The gift he gave Immanuel.
Jesus our brother, kind and good.

Dear Mary, Virgin of Advent, help me to give
my best gift possible to your holy child this Christmas. Amen

Feast of St. Andrew, Apostle

Ave Maria! Among the voluminous works of Bl. John Henry Cardinal Newman is a sermon about St. Andrew (Plain and Parochial Sermons, Sermon 1, "The World's Benefactors". Little is known about this apostle, Cardinal Newman readily admits, he adds that this little bit affords us enough for a lesson, and that an important one. These are the facts before us. St. Andrew was the first convert among the Apostles; he was especially in our Lord's confidence; thrice is he described as introducing others to Him; lastly, he is little known in history, while the place of dignity and the name of highest renown have been allotted to his brother Simon, whom he was the means of bringing to the knowledge of his Saviour."

We might wonder what lesson there could possibly be for us with so few facts about this apostle of Christ. Cardinal Newman explains it all quite clearly. "Our lesson, then, is this; that those men are not necessarily the most useful men in their generation, not the most favoured by God, who make the most noise in the world, and who seem to be principals in the great changes and events recorded in history; on the contrary, that even when we are able to point to a certain number of men as the real instruments of any great blessings vouchsafed to mankind, our relative estimate of them, one with another, is often very erroneous: so that, on the whole, if we would trace truly the hand of God in human affairs, and pursue His bounty as displayed in the world to its original sources, we must unlearn our admiration of the powerful and distinguished, our reliance on the opinion of society, our respect for the decisions of the learned or the multitude, and turn our eyes to private life, watching in all we read or witness for the true signs of God's presence, the graces of personal holiness manifested in His elect; which, weak as they may seem to mankind, are mighty through God, and have an influence upon the course of His Providence, and bring about great events in the world at large, when the wisdom and strength of the natural man are of no avail."

We must not let ourselves be fooled or sidetracked by those "who make the most noise in the world" -- and their name is Legion for they are many. We see their flashy pictures on the covers of glossy magazines, we hear their booming voices above the murmurs of us common folks, we're momentarily seduced by their charisma that outshines our ordinariness. They do good and, as Cardinal Newman points out, a certain number of them are true instruments of great blessings. But all that glitters is not gold. And, as J. R. R. Tolkien wrote in The Lord of the Rings:

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

The true gold of an individual is not always immediately apparent, and it most likely will never be lauded by the world. Helen Keller once stated that "The world is moved along, not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes, but also by the aggregate of tiny pushes of each honest worker." God doesn't call all of us to be heroes, but He does need countless ordinary people to be honest workers in His vineyard. Our gold is shiniest when we respond to our Lord and Master as St. Andrew did, quick to respond when He calls us, glad to serve Him in whatever way He chooses, no matter how obscure or lowly. Then one day it can be said of us as it's been said of St. Andrew and all the men and women throughout the ages who have left everything to follow Christ: "Their voice has gone forth to all the earth, and their words to the ends of the world" (Romans 18:10).

Dear Mary, Virgin of Advent, I rejoice with you that God chooses the lowly for the praise of His glory! Amen.