Peals of Joy

There is a feel of exuberance when church bells ring: an ecstatic enthusiasm that bolts out of the sky. Today being a feast day (Happy Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception!) there was an air of cheer in the air itself as different liturgies marked their launch with the pealing of bells. I was awoken this morning by bells, and it certainly has a more cheery sound than the digital electronics that normally terminate slumber.

Somehow I haven't noticed the abundance of bells on Sundays, which swell the standard weekday count (perhaps I'm out and about more on Sundays), but this Saturday morning I heard the feastday succession from my room, where several floors up the bells seem to arrive at my same altitude. The city of course is always a cacophony of noise: the whine of the scooters, the clash of delivery trucks, the shouts and the honks and the conversations en masse.

But the resonance from bell towers bursts forth as a reminder: be lifted up--see more than what crowds the narrow streets.

Today's feast corresponds to that exultation as we step into these early days of Advent. Even as our downward-turned world seeks to take over even the Christmas prequel as a time for fulfillment through more things, Advent lifts our eyes toward grace: new life is breaking into the world, you don't have to live by your old standards anymore!

Mary embodies the Advent season, even as she gave body to the Savior. Why are we still measuring our lives by the standards of the world, when the channel by which the Messiah broke in shows that a new standard of eternity already applies here?

Today's solemnity reveals that the hope breaking into the world is far higher than we have allowed ourselves to recognize. The soil where the seed from heaven falls is utterly transformed: Mary was not vandalized by Satan even at the first moment of her life. As the daughter of Eve turns to crush the head of the serpent, his initial victory is now shown to have utterly collapsed. Even as we struggle with our own sins and wearily doubt that we shall ever overcome them, today we see again that God means business when he starts cleaning house.

Protestants don't understand Catholics' enthusiasm for Mary: if there's anything they're allergic to, it's the Church's love for the whole community of saints led by Mary. More than anything this reflects their birth in the modern age--as humanism takes a turn towards individualism, knowledge turns towards rationalism, Protestantism emerges with a sanitized form of Christianity which forgets our Jewish heritage that ushered in the new ecclesia, the kingdom of heaven alive in our world.

I was able to concelebrate Mass today at the church of Santi Apostoli--beautiful, beautiful choir--which commemorates the initial 12 called by the Son of David to found his new kingdom. Cardinal Battista Re presided, and the packed church was met by a sanctuary full of priests. The image of the Immaculate Conception showed Mary with the crown of twelve stars spoken of in Revelation (the basis for the flag of the European Union, by the way, even as it tragically severs itself from its heritage), echoing the innumerable stars which unveil the descendants of Abraham in untold numbers, brought in from the four corners of the world by the newborn king.

In a few days the bells will be pealing for Midnight Mass. As your eyes are drawn toward the one star, which led the wise to what was neglected by the intelligent, lift up your brothers and sisters who are still cast down. The din of modernity's messages demands instant agitation; the Prince of Peace lifts us from the turmoil into the new life he has brought. Perhaps we still feel uncomfortable around the new family members he has brought us to; perhaps we still hear echoes of outside's chaos. Today we can cast our cares aside as we respond to a hope shining from above.