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Time of Mercy Blog

 

Magnificat anima mea Dominum

Magnificat - Song and Praise

Miriam, the little Daughter of Israel, who accepted the Word to such an extent that it became a Reality in her. She became the shadow of God: she breathed His breath, she knew Silence, song and the celestial world of angels... Dancing daughter of Jerusalem. Running gently through the pages of Scripture like a ray of light over the trembling leaves of the eternal Tree.

She knows what it means to enter into the mystery of God; to become in Him. To be as close to Him as possible and to see what is most important - immense love overflowing to the earth, like a mighty and inexhaustible waterfall. She learned why it was so important to stand with outstretched hands and grasp this falling love, like the Blood flowing down the wood of the cross, so as not to miss a drop, more precious than all the treasures of the earth.

She learned to wake up daily in the world of the Most -High, to walk in His courts, and to dwell in His House, the temple of the universe. She discovered that there is really no one to oppose Him, who raises his voice against His voice, and his iniquity against His Love; that there is no darkness that can obscure His light. She knows, then, how to find the only closeness that man desires in the depths of his heart, how to finally understand Who God is, what His kingdom really is, and Who we are. She knows, then, how to stand just beyond the death in the face of eternal Life, how to drink the light like a precious drink and hear the never-ending singing of the angels...

The Unspeakable cannot be spoken. But we cannot remain silent about Him either. He is a necessity that opens our mouths and makes us ask. Just as it is necessary for someone who is thirsty and wander in the wilderness, to find a spring. And we need to be reminded of this source, hidden in the desert and beyond. Every day we need to set out once again with confidence deeper and deeper into the desert, to immerse our thirsty lips one morning in the water of a shady well, so as not to perish running after false images reflected in the hot sand. There, in the midst of a wilderness where there is nothing but us and God, terrifying and fascinating at the same time, present like the silence that surrounds our words, our song is formed: music without words, the rhythm of our breathing, measuring down the days separating us from eternity.

The ever-present silence of God. In it the eternal Word is constantly born, creating and sustaining, coming and going, like a wave on the shores of the ocean touching the land, gently, then again with power. God - the silence that constantly surrounds us. Silence listening to the beating of our heart, flowing through us like the fragrance of a distant Garden. The silence that longs for our song. Who gives depth to our words, immersing them back in the one Word, drawing us to the One from whom we came and with whom we were before sin tore the world apart. The silence of the Most High, in which our song-magnificat is born, the prayer of wonder rising like a cedar and falling like a mountain stream, small as a sparrow and strong as an eagle crossing the skies, moving like a forest glade before sunrise, mighty as a whirlwind and gentle as grass, but above all never silent like the sound of the sea enchanted in the shell born in it.

Magnificat. Entering through invisible gates into the celestial world of angels, into the silver and gold river of dancing elements, into the never-fading Garden, beautiful and untamed, into the world of the one Word resounding over the abysses of light. There, beyond the limits of imagination, there is only Reality itself, terrible and beautiful, without a shadow of iniquity, imbued with love as a breath filling the earth, as powerful as time toppling the highest mountains, and gentle as the light of the stars in the night.

Who can describe the prayer of rapture? What is it and where does it lead? It is ascending and descending, dancing, singing, coming home, awakening from a bad dream, and a powerful protection from one who wants to stop us from entering invisible gates and stop us only in a world that we can touch and measure, although we are unable to touch and measure our own depth crying out in tribulation. The song of wonder is born of obedience to the winged and fiery words of the Lord, of humble devotion, of the fiat that will enter into our worship and carry our prayer, making it winged and fiery, sublime, shining and glorious Magnificat.

Christ, who came from behind the chasm separating God from man with the black fire of sin, raised our prayer and transformed it into the Lord's song, into the Magnificat, into constant praise. He delivered us from a strange land. Those who followed Him with tears into the dark land of death returned joyfully carrying their regained possession - the royal dignity. With him, they climbed to heights that cannot be described in words, before which words become empty and fall silent. There the thrones of the house of David, the king's house, are prepared for them, and there they dance, crying: All my sources are in you.

Christ, the one who joined the separated worlds and became a bridge over the abyss, the ship carrying us through the sea that had hitherto crashed at our feet. He has made sure that our prayer does not have to be offered by special messengers, but that we ourselves have become inhabitants of the House, no longer passers-by, but heirs of the saints, those who come face to face before God and talk as one would speak with a friend. He changed our prayer. He turned crying into joy. And those who desire to follow him into invisible gates, into a world that exists and is more durable than the one they touch and measure... They will enter into the song of the dancing Daughter of Jerusalem, Miriam, the wife of Joseph and the Bride of the Most High, the One who lived in the Presence of God, so that God could descend the steps of her joy into our humanity, like a luminous waterfall that fills our night with the near dawn of the rising day.


Until Tomorrow

fr. george

George Bobowski