Letter to friends, 2

Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners,
now, and at the hour of our death.

I put to one side argument, or proof. To another side, habit.

I form of habit a kind of parcel from which I stand apart. I observe. I consider. I unwrap this parcel, observe the contents, and wrap it up again.

I read and hear others who present this parcel as a thing complete, if of infinite meaning.

But I know meaning as I know my life in Jesus Christ not to be a thing, a parcel, to be observed, unwrapped, carried about, left here or there, protected, revealed or deferred.

Intercession, the category, the movement.

• I am I as I am in the life of Jesus Christ.
• I am I as I am a child of Mary, mother of God.

Perhaps, after all, it is too much to ask that the world speak to Mary, except that it can never be too much to say, Mary, pray for us.

• Why is that so simple?
• Why does it feel right to say, Mary pray for us?

My friends, pray the Rosary, by all means. I have not read a lesson or direction on the Rosary that I disagree with, or that is not, in my opinion, correct, noble, lovely, and true. I have the privilege of leading the Rosary every third Sunday at the Church I attend, and I can tell you that every single Hail Mary matters, and means something. I have found myself incapable of proceeding with the Hail, Holy Queen, for the emotions that overcome me.

This is not bragging. This is empirical fact, like being winded from a sprint.

So, yes, pray the Rosary. And more so, speak to Mary as you would to your mother. You do not have to be a signed and sealed Catholic to say, simply, Mary. Mary, mother of God, what should I do? Mary, help me. Mary, in the name of Jesus Christ, insert petition here.

What is religion? At its best, I believe that it is a practical outline of how to love God and obey his commandments, which are summed up (as Paul adjures) in the admonition to love each other as we do ourselves, where all worldly distinctions disappear and we are one in Jesus Christ.

Surely, under the watchful, caring, protective, ever-wakeful gaze of Mary, mother of God; surely, all are entitled to speak to Mary. Mary, mother to all, to all who would care to ask, if only casually, as an almost unconscious aside...

Mary, help me. In the name of God, help me.