Some Thoughts on the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary

About a month ago, I took on a week-long babysitting job that involved playing with a little girl at her mother’s office. On Thursday morning, this little girl was unusually tired and slept most of the morning. With little else to do, I decided to pass the time by saying a rosary. I’m always excited to realize that it’s Thursday, because the Luminous Mysteries are my favorite. Anyway…sitting on a rolling chair in this cold doctor’s office, it finally hit me why the mystery of the Proclamation of the Kingdom of Heaven is at the center of this group of mysteries. Of all the mysteries of the rosary, I’d always understood this one the least, perhaps because it is one of the most basic mysteries. Jesus’s revelation: “My kingdom does not belong to this world” (Jn. 18:36) shows us that this world that we can see is not all there is. There is something beyond this world. This is such a basic tenet of the Christian faith that I tend to take it for granted. So many people out there, however, do not believe there is anything else out there and therefore do not have the consolation of this wonderful fact of existence.

After this first realization, God then showed me how all of the Luminous Mysteries were related to the Kingdom of Heaven, and that there was a progression in the order of the mysteries. Baptism is our gate of entry into the kingdom—even the King himself went through this gate. The Wedding at Cana is the closest we can get, on the purely human level, to what the Kingdom of Heaven is like. First, it is a time of rejoicing and being reunited with everyone you love, a great celebration and feast, just as I often picture heaven. Second, it celebrates the coming together in marriage of a man and a woman, sexual relations being the best human image of heaven as union with the Beloved, union with God. After the Wedding, the Proclamation of the Kingdom (as mentioned above) takes us beyond the human, earthly level. In the Transfiguration, the disciples get a glimpse of this heavenly glory, seeing Jesus in his full glory as King of heaven and earth. This experience is also a confirmation for the disciples (and for us) that what was announced in the Proclamation is indeed true. Finally, in the Institution of the Eucharist, we have the merging of the two worlds, earth and heaven. The Eucharist is heaven on earth because it is physical and spiritual union with God, as well as union with the entire Mystical Body of Christ, living and deceased. It is not yet the Beatific Vision, but it’s as close as we can get on earth. Within these five mysteries, the Wedding Feast foreshadows the Eucharist, which is even more intimate than any human sexual relation.

Just now in researching the Luminous Mysteries, I came across the apostolic letter with which John Paul II introduced them into the tradition of the rosary, entitled Rosarium Virginis Mariae. I only read over it quickly, but what I did read made me see the rosary in a very new and wonderful way. (I highly recommend this letter, in case you can’t tell.) Anyway, this letter describes the Luminous Mysteries as being especially concerned with the public ministry of Jesus. “Each of these mysteries is a revelation of the Kingdom now present in the very person of Jesus” (21).

Thinking a little more on this, I realized that these mysteries are very closely tied to the sacraments of the Church. Baptism, Matrimony and Eucharist are obvious. The Proclamation, seen as a call to conversion, contains in it the offer of Reconciliation: “This is the time of fulfillment. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the Gospel.” (Mk. 1:15) Finding a parallel sacrament to go with the Transfiguration proved difficult. For now, I’ve settled on the practice of Eucharistic Adoration, which, while it is not one of the seven sacraments, greatly enriches our experience of the sacrament of the Eucharist.

Finally, these five mysteries contain the basic mission of Christ and his Church on earth: caring for God’s people in body and soul. Jesus provided for our physical and emotional human needs by providing the wedding guests with wine. He provides for our spiritual needs in the preaching that accompanies the Proclamation, in baptism and in forgiveness of sins. The Eucharist, of course, nourishes us both physically and spiritually. The Luminous Mysteries show us how to make a reality those familiar words that open the Lord’s Prayer: “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

Works Cited:

John Paul II. Rosarium Virginis Mariae. 2002. http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/apost_letters/documents/hf_jp-ii_apl_20021016_rosarium-virginis-mariae_en.html

The New American Bible. Iowa Falls: World Bible Publishers, 1986.

There and Back Again...The Healthy Way to Read Fantasy

Bilbo Baggins’ title to The Hobbit is “There and Back Again.” It can hardly be coincidence that the title of this prelude to the greatest fantasy epic of our time provides the key to effectively reading the genre that follows after this great story. This title is also reflective of Tolkien’s theory of fantasy and its role in the life of its readers. This theory can be summarized as follows: fantasy should turn our gaze back to our own world, with new eyes more appreciative of the beauty of our world.

I am writing this while still on the post-Harry-Potter-#7-part-2 emotional high—I was itching to get to a computer or a notebook the minute I stepped out of that film. Then I realized that in my flurry to write down my ideas, I was in danger of rendering them empty and meaningless. I had been so moved by the portrayals of love in the film, and yet, in my excitement to write down my feelings, I was forgetting to love those around me. My wild rush to the computer was interrupted by my mom wanting to check her email and my brother wanting to go online for something, and my mad drive to write was interrupted by my sister wanting to play a game with me before (and past) bedtime. So I asked my guardian angel to keep a hold on my thoughts for me while I went to play, somewhat distracted, but not enough so as to prevent my winning the first round of memory. As I hugged my mom and sister good night, I realized that this is what Harry was willing to give his life for. If I didn’t cherish the love of my family and friends, then the film had taught me nothing.

In this last experience, I thank God for giving me the grace to read/watch this story the way I just did: with eyes turned on my own world and more attuned to the riches that lie beneath the surface of everyday actions. It wasn’t always this way for me. In high school I became a huge fan of The Lord of the Rings. (I still am, in case it isn’t obvious from the first paragraph above.) I was in a melancholy state of discontent after finishing the books and watching the films, disappointed that it wasn’t real, and bored with this world because it didn’t have elves. I imagined so many times being magically transported to Middle-Earth and just staying there forever, with one hang-up: no Mass on Sundays. I’d have to take along a priest...or a bishop, so he could ordain new priests once we got there…Anyway, the turning point in the story of my unhealthy desire to fall into another world is this: the realization that Christ died to save this world—this world and no other. If Jesus loved this world (or at least its people) enough to die for it, then who was I to spurn it as boring? Our world took on a whole new value in my eyes upon this realization.

Upon re-reading Tolkien’s On Fairy Stories in college, I found articulated the exact description of my above experience. This function of fairy-stories that Tolkien calls “recovery” involves seeing things as we are meant to see them; cleaning our windows; “so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness” (77). Far from causing us to be bored with our own world, the reading of fantasy should restore in us a sense of wonder for the things of this world: “We should meet the centaur and the dragon, and then perhaps suddenly behold, like the ancient shepherds, sheep, and dogs, and horses—and wolves” (77).

Another wonderful example of “there and back again” is Michael Ende’s Neverending Story. (Typing this, I realize the irony—or perhaps the fittingness—of the book’s title.) Bastian is sent to Phantasien so that he can make both that world and his own world whole. He goes to save Phantasien from the nothingness caused by the lack of imagination exercised in his world, but is nearly trapped there by the temptation of a world completely shaped by his own will. He would not be the first to be so trapped. In Phantasien there exists a city known as the Old Emperor City. All of its inhabitants are humans from Bastian’s world (our world) who have lost the will to leave Phantasien, and therefore cannot leave, since the world is determined by their will. All of the people in this city have lost their reason and are occupied with futile, irrational tasks, such as sticking stamps to soap bubbles or digging a hole to bury a burning candle. These people, in wanting to remain in the world shaped by their will rather than return to their own world, have lost the ability (but first the will) to distinguish between fantasy and reality. Tolkien also emphasizes that, rather than confuse fantasy and reality, fairy-stories must take reality as their base. Without a clear knowledge of what is real, there can be no concept of the imaginary. “If men were ever in a state in which they did not want to know or could not perceive truth (facts or evidence), then Fantasy would languish until they were cured. If they ever get into that state (it would not seem at all impossible), Fantasy will perish, and become morbid delusion” (75).

Those of you who are not heroic fantasy aficionados like me probably think that I have made my point to the point of redundancy: you can’t live in a fantasy world forever. For those of you out there, though, who really wish deep down that elves were real and who are reluctant to relegate fantasy to that safe little box of “it’s just make-believe”, I will try to elaborate on one more point. Reading fantasy can help us become more in-tune to the world of invisible realities all around us. Seeing the Gospels as the paradigmatic epic of our own world, we can imbue each moment of reality with so much more meaning. Suddenly, stopping to hold the door and smile at someone becomes a testament to the hidden reality that everyone is loved and valued by God. Praying in front of an abortion clinic becomes like bearing down on the gates of Mordor--or hell--with a flask of starlight, a light of truth. The imagination cultivated by the reading of fantasy will help us picture the guardian angels that are always with us and the city of heaven that awaits us. If we see the Gospel as the greatest (true!) story of all time, in which evil has already been defeated, then evangelization turns into a mission to convince people that this story is indeed reality. There is more to this world than what we can see; fantasy can awake in us the desire for this higher, hidden reality, a desire which is then fulfilled by the Gospel story. Summing up this whole view of fantasy, Aslan the lion reassures Edmund and Lucy at the end of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader that he is will be with them in their own world. “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia” (270). Truth is truth whether it comes from the lips of elves, angels, or even talking lions. It remains our task as readers to discern the truth in whatever dress it is presented to us and to apply this truth to our own lives.

Works Cited:

Tolkien, J.R.R. “On Fairy Stories” in The Tolkien Reader. New York: Ballantine Books, 1966.

Lewis, C.S. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. New York: Harper Collins, 1980.

Mission Statement

My name is Stephanie and I am a recent graduate of the University of Dallas, with a BA in Comparative Literature and a BA in German. Currently, I am a lay missionary with VIDES+USA. VIDES stands for Volunteers in Development, Education, Solidarity, and is affiliated with the Daughters of Mary Help of Christians (also known as the Salesian Sisters), a Roman Catholic religious order dedicated to serving youth. From August 2011 to May 2012 I will be working with the youth of Munich, Germany.

In this blog, I hope to share my faith journey as a missionary, in particular as a missionary to the developed worlds of the US and Europe. I first created this blog on the feast of St. Benedict, patron of Europe, and today is the feast of St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein), also a patroness of Europe. I ask these two, as well as St. Francis de Sales (patron of journalists and writers and namesake of the Salesians), to also be patrons of this blog, my humble little effort to share the fruits of my contemplation, as the Dominicans would say.

Part of evangelizing a people is evangelizing their culture. Despite the many negative things that can justifiably be said about contemporary culture, I'm convinced that you can find God in there somewhere, if you look with the right kind of eyes. I intend to look at our culture, particularly in its narrative, dramatic and lyric aspects (i.e. books, film and music), through these eyes of faith. I pray that you who read this will take away some food for thought that will strengthen your love for Christ.