A quick prayer, with further thoughts: Benedict XVI, and St. Mary

I read this morning a news account claiming that the Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, is looking “tired" and "weak,” much declined in energy over the last few months. He has been in excellent health, but he is 84 years old. The news account (which I am not going to link) speculated at length as to whether he might retire, obviously hoping that he might. Not likely: the last Pope to retire did so in 1415.

Benedict has spoken on this subject, in 2010: "If a pope clearly realizes that he is no longer physically, psychologically and spiritually capable of handling the duties of his office, then he has a right, and under some circumstances, also an obligation to resign." But he went on to say that “One can resign at a peaceful moment or when one simply cannot go on. But one must not run away from danger and say that someone else should do it."

This is hardly a peaceful moment for the Church or the world that he loves so dearly. He is not going to walk away from his duty; instead, he has trips scheduled to Mexico and Cuba next spring.

But before that, there is Christmas, which is grueling for any priest, religious, or church musician. With all my heart, I wish him well. And that is why I offer this quick prayer, before attending to my own duties for the Fourth Sunday of Advent:

LORD God of hosts, look with favor upon thy servant Benedict, Bishop of Rome. Uphold him in his service to thee through this coming week. Grant him a sense of thy presence and every spiritual blessing, for the benefit of thy holy Church throughout the world: through him who is the Great Shepherd of the Church, even Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

-------
[Further thoughts, later in the day]
Christmas is more than a grueling ordeal; it is a joy, more so the more one enters into it through the Church's liturgy and song. And I doubt not that it is one of the chief joys of the Holy Father, whose love for Our Lady shines through all of his writings. I hope that this is a good week for him.

One of my favorite passages from his writings comes at the end of the encyclical letter Spe salvi, where he turns to Mary, the "Star of Hope" (Ave maris stella):

With a hymn composed in the eighth or ninth century, thus for over a thousand years, the Church has greeted Mary, the Mother of God, as “Star of the Sea”: Ave maris stella. Human life is a journey. Towards what destination? How do we find the way? Life is like a voyage on the sea of history, often dark and stormy, a voyage in which we watch for the stars that indicate the route. The true stars of our life are the people who have lived good lives. They are lights of hope. Certainly, Jesus Christ is the true light, the sun that has risen above all the shadows of history. But to reach him we also need lights close by—people who shine with his light and so guide us along our way. Who more than Mary could be a star of hope for us? With her “yes” she opened the door of our world to God himself; she became the living Ark of the Covenant, in whom God took flesh, became one of us, and pitched his tent among us (cf. Jn 1:14)....

Through you [Mary], through your “yes”, the hope of the ages became reality, entering this world and its history. You bowed low before the greatness of this task and gave your consent: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Lk 1:38).... But alongside the joy which, with your Magnificat, you proclaimed in word and song for all the centuries to hear, you also knew the dark sayings of the prophets about the suffering of the servant of God in this world.... Notwithstanding the great joy that marked the beginning of Jesus's ministry, in the synagogue of Nazareth you must already have experienced the truth of the saying about the “sign of contradiction” (cf. Lk 4:28ff). In this way you saw the growing power of hostility and rejection which built up around Jesus until the hour of the Cross, when you had to look upon the Saviour of the world, the heir of David, the Son of God dying like a failure, exposed to mockery, between criminals. Then you received the word of Jesus: “Woman, behold, your Son!” (Jn 19:26). From the Cross you received a new mission. From the Cross you became a mother in a new way: the mother of all those who believe in your Son Jesus and wish to follow him. The sword of sorrow pierced your heart. Did hope die? Did the world remain definitively without light, and life without purpose? At that moment, deep down, you probably listened again to the word spoken by the angel in answer to your fear at the time of the Annunciation: “Do not be afraid, Mary!” (Lk 1:30).... In that hour at Nazareth the angel had also said to you: “Of his kingdom there will be no end” (Lk 1:33). Could it have ended before it began? No, at the foot of the Cross, on the strength of Jesus's own word, you became the mother of believers. In this faith, which even in the darkness of Holy Saturday bore the certitude of hope, you made your way towards Easter morning. The joy of the Resurrection touched your heart and united you in a new way to the disciples, destined to become the family of Jesus through faith. In this way ... you remain in the midst of the disciples as their Mother, as the Mother of hope. Holy Mary, Mother of God, our Mother, teach us to believe, to hope, to love with you. Show us the way to his Kingdom! Star of the Sea, shine upon us and guide us on our way!