Modern Marys

[dedalus_1947]

Comforter of the afflicted,
Pray for us.
Help of Christians,
Pray for us.
Mother of Good Counsel,
Pray for us.
Mother of Sorrows,
Pray for us.
Morning star,
Pray for us.
Mystical Rose,
Pray for us.
Tower of Ivory,
Pray for us.
Star of the Sea,
Pray for us.
Queen of Heaven,
Pray for us.
(Litany and Devotional titles of the Blessed Virgin Mary)

 The telescoping beams of glowing light shot through wide church doors, alerting the assembled audience that the ceremony was about to begin. The crowd of relatives, friends, and students had grown comfortable in the cool and whispered calm of the church, unaware of the long, processing line of eighth graders, who were winding their way to the back entrance. I could feel the tension and anticipation. Adults craned their necks, and whispered to their small children tiptoeing on kneelers or scrambling to the ends of the pews to get a better look up the aisle. The invited underclassmen tried not gazing backwards to avoid a hissed warning from their teachers. There were no sounds or movement from the back of the church, only the silhouette of a single maiden outlined in light, with two older women at her sides, awaiting the musical cue to begin. This was the annual May Coronation, or the May Crowning of Mary at Our Lady of the Valley Church. It is a Marian tradition performed every year in countless schools and parishes throughout the Christian world. Since medieval times, Christians had dedicated the vernal month of May to Mary, the mother of Jesus, and selected specific days to pay her homage and devotion. The exact prayers, litanies, and activities might vary from place to place, but the focal point was always one figure, and her coronation as Queen of Heaven. Besides Easter, it is one of the most colorful, lyrical, and evocative traditions in the Church. Its significance also lies in the fact that by commemorating Mary, the day also honored all mothers and women as the sources of life, nurturing, and compassion. As a child, I remembered the May Crowning as one of the most exciting activities in the school year. It was a Catholic rite of passage in which only 8^th grade students performed all the important functions of the day. They were the “big kids” who decorated the church, dressed up, carried the statue of the Virgin in the procession, led the prayers and the singing, and placed the garland of flowers atop Mary’s head. This hallowed tradition was again being played out at our church, as the congregation of families and students awaited the entrance of the 8^th graders and the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

As the event photographer, I had watched this procession from its inception. At first there was the indifferent loitering of adolescent boys, surrounded by a nervous covey of teenage girls, darting from classroom, to bathroom, and to office, primping and arranging their hair, cosmetics, and dresses. Then, with minimal commands, betraying hours of practice and preparation, their teacher, Ms. Kennedy, brought them to attention and lined them up in front of their classroom. Watching as they adjusted and maintained their intervals, the students slowly and reverently began the long, traditional march to the church. The coronation ritual snaked along the edges of the school playground, up the perimeter fence, and then through the church driveway to the street sidewalk. 18 garlanded maidens, dressed in the bright, floral and pastel colors of Spring, were followed by 5 young lads in blue shirts and ties, carrying a specially designed and decorated pallet, with the image of the Virgin Mary perched on top. With each measured step they took approaching the church, these tall and erect children became more serious, more solemn, and more grown up. This was the first May Crowning I had seen since my own daughter’s in 1994 (see Upstream Memories). I attended that event thinking it was just going to be another 8^th grade activity, like the Christmas show, the Pancake Breakfast, or countless volleyball, basketball, and softball games. In fact it proved to be a transformational moment in which I saw my daughter in a whole new light. Seeing her so tall, elegant, and mature, it finally struck me that Prisa was no longer a child; she wasn’t “Daddy’s little girl” anymore. I wasn’t prepared for that staggering epiphany. All I could do was look at her gorgeous, glowing face, while wiping tears from my eyes, and realizing that the years had gone by too quickly. It seemed as if I had glanced away for only a second, and my little “chula girl” was gone. I would never again be greeted by a beaming, shorthaired pixie, screaming in delight, and jumping into my arms to embrace me. She was now a tall, lovely, and serious young adolescent. I felt as though I had never adequately appreciated her childhood, or showed how much I loved her as a child. I saw then that it was too late, and I’d have to do it while she was a teenager in high school. As the student choir began the entrance song, the first maiden stepped into the aisle and the procession flowed into the church. On this modern day in May, I wondered if the parents who were here would share my past emotions when they saw their own daughters walking so erect, solemn, and radiant.

This year, I was only taking pictures and noting the changes that had occurred during the 16 intervening years. The May ritual had evolved a great deal under the direction of Ms. Kennedy. It was still primarily a Marian prayer service, ending with the coronation of Mary. However, the program now included six to eight testimonials to “Modern Marys”. These were women, young and old, who exemplified the strengths, virtues, and actions of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the real world. Students and adults were selected to speak on the strength of their essays supporting their choice of a “modern Mary”. The honorees could be mothers, mothers-in-law, sisters, friends, teachers, or students. I’d heard of this change in the ceremony 8 years ago, but I hadn’t given it much thought until now.  In the past, Kathy had honored her own mother as a Modern Mary, and this year she invited my mother, Maria del Rosario, to receive that tribute. To my delight, my mother said yes, and my sisters Tita and Gracie accompanied her to the ceremony. I could see them sitting to the right of the altar, with other invited guests, as the program began.

 

I occupied myself moving to different locations in the church and finding the best angles and positions for photographing the students and speakers. The eighth graders soon occupied the first three rows of pews, and then singly and in groups, students arose, bowed, and approached the altar to perform various functions. The program began with reflective meditations on Mary and then a decade of the Rosary. Then one by one, 7 speakers took the podium, asking their “Modern Mary” to come forward and stand by them, as they read their tribute aloud to the entire congregation. The first speaker was a student who called up her mother. The parent acted so flustered as she walked up the aisle, that I was puzzled. My mother knew of the honor being bestowed her, and I knew adults always needed a good reason to take time from work, dress up, and be present at a school function at 10:30 on a Friday morning. I assumed the mother was simply shy about such a public tribute, and I thought nothing more about it as I busied myself searching for different shooting perspectives. The next speaker called up a fellow student as her Modern Mary, and then Kathy arose and asked my mother to join her. I’d heard the tribute when Kathy practiced it at home, but I couldn’t help being moved when I heard it again. Kathy explained that just as the original Mary had put aside her doubts and fears and said, “Yes” to the angel Gabriel, Maria del Rosario said, “Yes” to a young Mexican-American Marine with whom she had corresponded throughout the War in the Pacific. As the mother of Jesus had done, so too, Maria married my father, Antonio José, left her home in Mexico City, and traveled to the foreign land of Los Angeles, California, to start and raise a family. Widowed at the age of 47, she finished the job as a single mother of 6 children. While listening to Kathy’s parallels, I knew my Mom was pleased and honored by the tribute. Once she finished, I was only half listening to the remaining speakers, when the depths of their essays finally broke through as if by revelation.

Another garlanded girl adjusted the microphone and called her mother up. This time, however, instead of heaping praise or drawing parallels, the student began quietly itemizing the specific hardships and sacrifices her mother had suffered in raising her family after a “horrendous divorce”. They lost their home, and her mother needed to work 2 to 3 jobs to make ends meet. Yet despite illnesses, misunderstandings, and the occasional arguments, they were making it. Through tears, sobs, and tortured pauses to regain control, the young girl spoke of her pride for this determined and hardworking woman, who made religion and a Catholic education such a priority in their lives. The tableau of this raven-haired young lady sharing her anguished tribute, and seeing her mother’s silent tears of remembered sorrows and joys, captivated the entire church. No one seemed to move or breathe during that speech for fear of breaking the spell, or betraying their own tears.
“That mother had no idea this was coming,” I said to myself, wiping my eyes. “It was a complete surprise!”
Four more tributes followed, but none was as gripping or authentic as that one. I managed to compose myself, and continued shooting pictures of the rest of the ceremony. Kathy told me later that, except for my mother, none of the honored women knew what would happen that day. It was a secret until the women were called up. The choir and students sang a new song, the statue of Mary was crowned, and the eighth grade girls performed a special liturgical dance. The ritual ended with Kathy taking the podium to thank the parents and guests for attending and inviting them to a reception in the parish hall. The emotional residue of the visual rituals and the gripping tributes to the seven Modern Marys stayed with me all day. I recognized the wisdom and importance of expanding the traditional activities and honoring actual women, young and old, who exemplified Marian virtues. I hoped the eighth graders who performed in the ceremony, and the congregation who witnessed the ritual, would remember it not only as a rite of passage but also as a goal to work towards and appreciate.

That May evening ended at the Doheny Campus of Mount St. Mary’s College in Los Angeles. We were there to attend the Accolade Ceremony of Kathy’s two sisters, Meg and Beth, (see Over The Hill). This was a recognition event and reception hosted by the university for the graduate students receiving their Master of Science degrees in Education, and other fields. The sisters had been reluctant about attending at first, but they finally realized that they deserved the tribute. They both had full-time careers as teacher, principal, and mothers, and had taken on the additional burden of weekend classes and monumental coursework. These mid-life graduate degrees were truly a big deal because they required so much extra work, determination, and sacrifice. As their raucous band of family supporters cheered, Beth and Meg proudly walked down the aisle to receive their recognition. Watching them on the stage, it struck me that the day’s Marian theme was extending onto this campus named after her, and that two more women were being recognized as Modern Marys.