At the principal Mass in Saint Henry’s Cathedral, the congregation was smaller than usual on Mother’s Day. I assume that many were celebrating the day at home with family and relatives. The liturgy of the Word, but especially the homily preached by Fr. Marie-Augustin (see below), once again led me to reflect more deeply on life.
In Finland, Mother’s Day is always celebrated on the second Sunday of May. This year it falls toward the end of the Easter season, with the great feasts of the liturgical year still ahead of us: the Ascension of Christ and Pentecost. We are in the midst of the most beautiful springtime, and in the cathedral garden our common mother Mary looks upon us gently.
My own mother passed into the next life a couple of years ago, just as Famu and Mummu did long ago. After Mass, as is my custom, I brought Mother’s Day roses to their graves. I was not surprised that God was once again generous: the sun was warm, the birds were singing and the wood anemones were in bloom. Here in Helsinki, the cherry blossoms in the Maunula memorial grove were delicate and beautiful. At Hietaniemi Cemetery everything was fresh and green with spring. It was still quiet before the traditional Mother’s Day crowds arrived. Walking through the cemeteries after Mass calmed my mind and made the world seem perfect.
I have two children whom I love and who genuinely care about me, even though they are already adults and my eldest has lived in another country for a long time. Children are not something to be taken for granted, and many live with hopes that never come true. For them, Mother’s Day may be a day of sorrow. Likewise, there are those who do not wish to receive what would be given to them. A small human life may never be born because it is chosen away. At the same time, the sincere and genuine love that a child would give to a mother is also chosen away.
I am happy that my children still turn to me when the worries of everyday life weigh heavily upon them. They may contact me even in the middle of the night, because I am their mother. They dare to show their feelings, both joyful and sorrowful. They are in my prayers every day, and many difficulties have faded away when help has come from God. I have learned that God listens and acts according to his will, and that he sometimes surprises us by giving even more than we dared to ask for our children and dear friends. I am grateful that I have learned to trust that things unfold as they are meant to. I have learned to thank God daily also for the things that disappoint or trouble me. I receive so much goodness from Him that I can pass goodness on to others.
For this reason it means especially much to me that on Mother’s Day I can go to Mass, listen to what God wishes to tell me, and receive when Jesus wishes to nourish me. I may also greet and thank mother Mary there in the garden.
On Mother’s Day, Fr. Marie-Augustin remembered us mothers in the prayers of the faithful. We also listened to a homily connected with the Easter season that is now drawing to a close.
The Holy Spirit is now powerfully present, giving strength and the desire to live. As I have often said before, the heart is once again open and receptive to love.
Christel Monni
Fr. Marie-Augustin’s (O.P.) homily
The Easter season will come to an end in a couple of weeks, and the liturgy is already preparing our hearts for the coming of the Holy Spirit, whom we celebrate at Pentecost. In today’s Gospel, during the Last Supper with his disciples, Jesus promises them “another Advocate” when he says: “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you forever. This Advocate is the Spirit of Truth.” Behind this word “Advocate” stands the Greek word Paraclete. It is important to understand the meaning of this word correctly, because it concerns God, who gives himself entirely to us, and our salvation. We also notice that Jesus applies this title to himself when he says that the Father will give “another Advocate,” “another Paraclete”: the first was he himself, Jesus.
What does this Paraclete mean, this word that may be translated both as “Advocate” and “Comforter”? The term is connected with legal practice in the time of Jesus and more broadly in the world of the Bible. In those days there was no modern criminal procedure. When someone came forward in court to defend the accused, he placed himself entirely at the accused person’s side and united his fate with that person’s fate. He shared the joy of the accused if he was acquitted, but also his punishment if he was condemned, because by taking his side he made himself a participant in the accused person’s destiny.
In this legal context, to act as someone’s “advocate,” that is, as his “paraclete,” did not mean the role of a lawyer in the modern sense, but literally solidarity. To act as an advocate meant sharing both the best and the worst with the one standing before judgment — even unto death, as we see in the story of the prophet Daniel. In this sense Jesus was the “Advocate” of his own: he gave his life for them.
When, after the Last Supper, the soldiers came to arrest him, he stepped forward and said: “It is me you are looking for. Let these men go.” In this way he saved the lives of his disciples. But he did even more: in the Incarnation, by becoming man, the Son of God became united in solidarity with the whole human race, took upon himself our humanity and shared its destiny, death itself, in atonement for our sins, so that he might give us eternal life. This is what we celebrate in every Eucharist.
At the Last Supper, as he was leaving his disciples, Jesus promises “another Advocate,” “another Paraclete.” This promise does not concern only the friends who were sitting around the table with him that evening. It also concerns us. We need an Advocate.
War stands at Europe’s very doorstep, it rages elsewhere in the world, and we already feel its consequences. The root of evil is known; it is always the same: ruthless economic and financial competition, the pursuit of territorial or material gain, the thirst for power and dreams of conquest. Everyone draws from the bitter spring of evil: fear of the other, envy, contempt or hatred. All this feeds hatred — and that is the opposite of what Jesus asks of us, namely love.
Today’s Good News is that God gives himself to us as our Advocate in the midst of the present struggle. Such is the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth, the Spirit of strength and generosity — all those names given to the Holy Spirit in the liturgy of Pentecost.
But the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, is not only our advocate — he is also our comforter. When someone stands before accusers and judges, the person who comes alongside the accused to support, encourage and advise him acts as a comforter. A friend or loved one who stands beside someone under threat helps him endure the trial, rediscover the courage to live, the power of hope and the peace of the heart, and thus rediscover his dignity as a child of God in the eyes of the world.
In this way the Holy Spirit is our comforter, because his presence gives us strength and the desire to live. This comfort is not the same as a child receiving a hug or embrace, or the delicate attention of a beloved person; rather, it is presence: the presence of the Holy Spirit whom Jesus promised to give us.
The source of all comfort is the presence of the Spirit of Jesus among us and even within us from the day we were baptized. We know how precious this presence is: it surpasses ordinary words of encouragement and every sign of friendship, because in it God himself gives us his very being.
This is not about morality, commandments, rights or duties, but about God giving himself to us in a way that surpasses all generosity. He is pure presence. He is the presence of light and truth. The presence of strength and gentleness. A presence that gives inspiration and rest. A presence that opens the future and brings all things to fulfillment. The presence of love, which is God himself. The presence of silence and peace. Amen.
Fr. Marie-Augustin OP