While there is no mention of the event in scripture, Catholics view the Assumption as a milestone in the life of Mary, celebrating our belief that as the mother of God, she was taken up, body and soul, into heaven when she completed her earthly life. Unlike the rest of humanity, we believe her body was never allowed to decay.
We have no history that tells us what really happened. There is no liturgical record of this feast until several centuries later. Yet from scripture, we can tell that no person is more closely linked with Jesus than his mother. Not only does Mary have the intimate bonding that only a mother can have with her child, she appears as the model Christian.
Because of her intimacy with Jesus, Mary reflects the person of Jesus Christ more perfectly than any one else. For this reason, Pope Pius XII wrote on November 1, 1050, “The immaculate Mother of God, the ever virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory.”
So how does this feast touch us? Our Catechism notes, “The assumption of the Blessed Virgin is a singular participation in her Son’s resurrection and an anticipation of the resurrection of other Christians.” In other words, what happened to Mary will someday happen to us.
As followers of Christ, we believe and hope that just as Christ rose from the dead and lives forever, the virtuous will live forever with the risen Christ who will raise them on the last day. Jesus promises that all faithful Christians will have the same destiny of experiencing the resurrection. In John’s gospel (11:25), he tells Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” Jesus initially fulfilled that promise when Mary was assumed body and soul into heaven.
For many, this outcome is incomprehensible. Certainly our souls will last forever, but our bodies? Yes, our bodies, so clearly mortal, will also rise to everlasting life. This feast invites us to celebrate death as our crossroads to eternal glory. In his letter to the Corinthians Paul notes that death has no sting for those who believe in the resurrection. Just as our gifts of bread and wine are transformed into the body and blood of Christ, upon death, we will be transformed when we present the gifts of our body and soul to God.
Granted, death is a subject few of us have an easy time dealing with when it touches us personally. When my mother was terminally ill, neither of us would openly talk about what we knew was about to happen for fear that we would leave the other person more despondent yet why be afraid? How different might we have felt had I known of this story then.
A long time ago, there lived a young boy whose parents had died. An aunt took him in and raised him as her own child. Years later, after he had grown up and left home, she sent a letter in which she disclosed that she was now terminally ill. From the tone of her letter, he could tell that she was afraid to die. He replied with a letter in which he wrote, “It is now thirty five years since I, a little boy of six, was left quite alone in the world. You sent me word that you would give me a home and be a mother to me. I’ve never forgotten that day when I made the long journey of ten miles to your house. I can still recall my disappointment when, instead of coming to me yourself, you sent your servant, Cesar, to fetch me. I well remember my tears and anxiety as, perched high on your horse and clinging tight to Cesar, I rode off to my new home.
“Night fell before we finished our journey and as it grew dark, I became even more afraid. ‘Do you think she’ll go to bed before I get there?’ I asked Cesar anxiously. ‘Oh, no,’ said Cesar. ‘she’s sure to stay up for you. When we get out of the woods, you’ll see her light shining in the window.’
“Presently, we did ride out into the clearing and there was your light. I remember that you were waiting at the door; that you put your arms tight around me; that you lifted me—a tired, frightened little boy—down from the horse. You had a fire burning on the hearth, a hot supper waiting on the stove. After supper you took me to my new room. You heard me say my prayers. Then you sat with me until I fell asleep.
“You probably realize why I am trying to recall this to your memory now. Very soon, God is going to send for you, and take you to your new home. I’m trying to tell you that you need not be afraid of the summons or the strange journey or of the dark messenger of death. God can be trusted. God can be trusted to do as much for you as you did for me so many years ago.
“At the end of the road, you’ll find love and a welcome waiting. And you’ll be safe in God’s care. I’m going to watch and pray for you until you are out of sight. And I shall wait for the day when I make the same journey myself and find you waiting at the end of the road to greet me.”
This feast sends us word that heaven can be our new home and the directions for getting there are rather simple. In the gospel, Jesus tells us, “blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.” As Mary demonstrated by her example often, that is done every time we willingly say “Yes,” to whatever God asks of us.