Mother of Homecomings

My finalist poem from the Catholic Literary Arts contest

Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

We are entering our second week of Advent, and as I had mentioned last week, one of my poems placed as a finalist for the Catholic Literary Arts 2023 Marian Advent Prayer Contest: Seeking Intercession. Thank you to CLA and Advent Poetry Judge, Fr. John Bullock, for recognizing my work.

All of the winners and finalists were given the opportunity to read their poems on a live Zoom event. However, only the winners are published on the website. A number of you have asked for a copy of the poem, so I thought I would post it here.

I want to note, this was not the poem I intended to submit. The original plan was to turn in a ghazal called “Mother of Holy Places”—Mary’s womb being the first place Jesus made a home. It was a reflection on refugees and displacement, influenced by recent wars, especially the one in Gaza which is only 74 kilometers (46 miles) from Bethlehem. Having found out about the contest fairly late I realized that I was not going to finish the ghazal in time.

I saw the flip side of exile as homecoming, and the word advent comes from the Latin word adventus, meaning “coming.” Now with a theme in hand, I had to find a form of prayer that would be suitable for Marian intercession, and I thought of The Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary. A litany is a “solemn prayer of supplication” that consists of a number of petitions, often with a call and response structure. The word itself comes from the Latin litania from Ancient Greek λιτανεία (litaneía) both of which mean “prayer”—and in turn comes from the Greek λιτή (litḗ) which means "supplication."

Many litanies are so long that the secularized usage of the word is negative, i.e. a litany of problems or complaints. And certainly, as a little girl this was my early experience of litanies. My parents would make my sister and I kneel down on the hardwood floor of their bedroom in front of a replica of the Infant Jesus of Prague so we could pray together. Sometimes we would say just the rosary and the Memorare. But on some dreaded nights one of my parents would launch into a litany (or two!). Mother of this, Virgin of that, and Queen of everything else. Imagine an 8-year-old with ADHD kneeling for all that time.

But then we would come to the more mystifying and enchanting titles…

Mirror of justice,
Seat of wisdom,
Cause of our joy,
Spiritual vessel,
Vessel of honor,
Singular vessel of devotion,
Mystical rose,
Tower of David,
Tower of ivory,
House of gold,
Ark of the covenant,
Gate of heaven,
Morning star...

It is the memory of these words on these nights that would be the inspiration for this poem:

Mother of Homecomings 

Green swing suspended in the sunlight,
Glass dome of the filament,
Bag of the Wonder Bread, 
Box drawer for the red-tipped match,
Stethoscope from the doctor kit,
Stringed cans for the game of telephone, 
Bakelite fountain pen full of ink, and
Book of family recipes.

O Mary, 
Mother of Advents and Home of Wonder,
You open your arms as if they are doors.
Pray for us, that we may find our way back
Into the peace that awaits us.

Amen.

My litany is of ordinary things, the quotidian. Things that could be found in our own homes.

The green swing suspended in the sunlight is the cradle of our Joy.

The glass dome of the filament encases the Light of the World.

The bag of the Wonder Bread holds the Bread of Life, the Eucharist, the source and summit of the Catholic faith.

The box drawer for the red-tipped match contains the light we need in our darkest times, our emergencies. The idea of such a small chamber also reminds me of the room where the Holy Spirit descended on Mary and the apostles with tongues of fire.

The stethoscope from the doctor kit is the instrument that aids the great healer. It is with this that He listens to our hearts.

The stringed cans for the game of telephone … From your lips to God’s ear. This is the role of the intercessor.

The bakelite fountain pen full of ink is like the young woman who carried the Word made flesh, as is said the Angelus prayer.

The book of family recipes is the nourishment that has been passed on from generation to generation—often written in the hands of those family members we would never meet.

The second stanza evokes the theme of Advent, the season that we are in, the beginning of our liturgical year. We are coming home to Mary.

Tonight, on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, I thought I would re-record myself reading the poem for those who missed it, complete with messy reading corner that was featured the other night. However, my daughter decided that she wanted to listen to me read and refused to sit anywhere other than behind me so I decided to put this behind a paywall. Here you go, paid subscribers!