The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

As we celebrate the Assumption of the Mother of God, body and soul, into the glory of heaven, we listen each year to the words of the Magnificat – the song sung by Mary shortly after God’s plans were revealed to her.   She agreed to all of them, saying:’ Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.’                                                          And it happened in the quiet of a house tucked away in the provincial Galilean town of Nazareth, a town whose inhabitants were not expected to amount to much. Similarly, the words of the Magnificat, though solemn and speaking of God’s great deeds, are spoken in the quiet of the house at Ain Karim. It is reasonable to assume that, apart from Mary herself, only Elizabeth heard these words. It is in such a humble, quiet and ordinary way that God’s works are accomplished.   What a stark contrast this is to the mystery of today’s celebration. Back then, everything was ordinary, homely, human. Today – glorious, heavenly, divine.

But that is precisely how God’s affairs unfold: from earth to heaven, from the everyday to eternity, from the cross to glory. Ultimately, this is not a contrast, but a consequence. From humility comes exaltation, from hunger comes satiety, and from sorrow comes joy. It is only by bearing this in mind that we are able to understand what happened on the eve of the Assumption eighty-five years ago. Not in the isolation of Nazareth, nor in the tranquillity of Ain Karim, but in the very heart of hell on earth – in Auschwitz. In the starvation bunker, from which Maksymilian Maria Kolbe was the only one to emerge alive. He was killed with an injection of phenol by camp guards, who were astonished that he was still alive. Shortly afterwards, his body was burned in a crematorium furnace, and his ashes were scattered amongst the ashes of so many others. In a most extraordinary and literal way, his wish came true at that moment – he turned to dust. For the Immaculate Virgin, on the eve of her Assumption, he was taken from this earth to heaven.

In the years since St Maximilian’s martyrdom, there have been many depictions of that moment. Painters, sculptors and filmmakers have portrayed it through the lens of their own sensibilities and imaginations. Let’s try to look at this shocking event in the light of the Magnificat.                                                                                                                                   Were not the self-proclaimed rulers, upon the death of Father Maximilian, deposed from their thrones, and those who boasted of the designs of their hearts – scattered?                          A deranged ideology of contempt for humanity and hatred of God was overcome by the defenceless power of self-sacrificing love. Father Maximilian had already triumphed the moment he volunteered to die for a stranger, and at the hour of his death he triumphed once and for all. The hungriest of the hungry – a prisoner in the hunger dungeon – was sated by the bounty of heaven. From the very heart of this earthly hell, he was brought to glory. It is hard for us to comprehend this, because all we can still see is the concrete floor and the naked bodies of the dead prisoners.

But he had already seen the Immaculate Virgin; he had seen the splendour of the Assumption and had himself been taken up to heaven to celebrate it there. We cannot measure up to St Maximilian. We are unable to comprehend what he ultimately achieved. Perhaps we are not even worthy of speaking of it.   Yet, together with the Immaculate Mary and her most faithful knight, let us profess today that there is no human pride that God will not put down, nor any human hunger that God will not satisfy