Mary, at the Dusk of Life: A Reflection on the Final Journey
By Rev. Boyet Dalogdog, MTh.
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| Photo Credits: RMN Zamboanga (Bong Simbajon) |
Last October 12, during the
solemn pontifical Mass for Nuestra Señora La Virgen del Pilar, a
breathtaking sunset painted the eastern wall of Fort Pilar, where the image of
the Blessed Mother stands in silent vigil. The sky shimmered with golden-orange
hues, a magnificent blend of earth and heaven meeting in one sacred moment.
This radiant dusk, tender and gentle, whispered to the soul of all who beheld
it: soon, night will fall, and darkness will cloak us once more, but this
darkness is not to be feared. It is the final veil before the sunrise of
eternal life.
As I scrolled through my Facebook
feed, I saw many friends post images of that same sunset, capturing the spirit
of Mary’s maternal presence watching over her children in Zamboanga. Her
presence in that twilight evokes a powerful image: Mary standing at the dusk of
life, a compassionate mother accompanying her children through the inevitable
dark night of the soul and body. She stands beside us in the cold silence of
the night, reminding us that we will not journey alone into the mysterious
realm of death.
Mary, often revered as the dawn
that heralds the new day, is the first to greet the rising sun—Jesus Christ,
the Light of the World. This light dispels the darkness and offers hope to all
who live in hardship and suffering. Yet there is profound consolation to be
found in Mary at the dusk of life—the evening of our earthly pilgrimage. In
this sacred season, she reminds us tenderly that while night approaches, it is
but a passage, and she stands with us, guiding us through the shadows toward
the light of resurrection.
The Scriptures speak beautifully
of this hope amid death’s shadow. The psalmist declares, “Even though I walk
through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and
your staff—they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4, NRSV). This assurance mirrors the
maternal care of Mary, whose presence is the rod and staff supporting the
faltering steps of those nearing the end. And St. Paul encourages believers
with the promise of resurrection, “For since we believe that Jesus died and
rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have
died” (1 Thessalonians 4:14, NRSV). Mary, who assumed body and soul into
heaven, embodies this eternal hope for all humanity.
The Catholic Magisterium teaches
that Mary’s Assumption is a sign of the destiny that awaits all faithful
followers of Christ—a holy anticipation of our own resurrection. Pope Pius XII,
in Munificentissimus Deus, defined this dogma not only as a privilege of
the Blessed Virgin but also as a profound foreshadowing of our future
glorification. Mary’s Assumption is the dawn after the dusk, the triumphant
entry into eternal life that she now shares with her Son. This great mystery of
faith offers profound comfort to the Christian facing the diminishing light of
earthly existence and the looming unknown of death (Pius XII, 1950).
Twentieth-century Catholic
theologians have also deeply reflected on Mary’s role in the human experience
of dying. Henri de Lubac, for example, highlights Mary's solidarity with
humanity in every phase of life and death—her sinlessness did not exempt her
from participating in the full human condition, including death and its
mystery. Through this participation, Mary becomes a profound symbol of hope and
trust in God’s mercy amid the twilight of life (de Lubac, 1950).
Furthermore, the great Dominican
theologian, Edward Schillebeeckx, reminds us that Mary at the dusk of life
serves as a mother who remains with us in the final journey, “in the moment
when all seems dark and death knocks at the door, she holds us close, pointing
always to the resurrection that follows” (Schillebeeckx, 1974). This maternal
accompaniment is deeply tender and personal, speaking to the human heart's
innate need not to face death alone.
Reflecting on Mary’s role at the
dusk of life is to confront the reality of our mortality with a spiritually
fortified heart. It is an invitation to prepare for the “dark night of the
soul” not in fear but in faith. The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us
that “death is the end of earthly life and the beginning of a new life with
Christ,” reinforcing that our hope rests in the resurrection promised by
Christ’s victory over death (CCC 1015).
In our last earthly moments,
Mary’s maternal presence can be a source of consolation and courage. She who
bore God incarnate, who witnessed Jesus’ suffering and death, now intercedes
tirelessly for us as we traverse the valley of the shadow. Like a mother
staying by her child’s bedside, Mary embraces us with infinite compassion,
ensuring we are not alone during our darkest hours.
As the dusk fades and night
envelops the earth, stars appear—small points of steadfast light in the
darkness. Mary is like that moon that reflects the light of the sun, calling us
to trust in the Son who conquers death and brings eternal life. Her guidance is
the promise that after every dusk, a dawn awaits—a new day in God’s luminous
presence.
Therefore, to reflect on Mary at
the dusk of life is to embrace the paradox of Christian hope: in the face of
dying, there is life; in the embrace of darkness, there is light; in the
experience of parting, there is a joyful reunion. Let us cling to Mary’s
maternal embrace, confident that she leads us safely into the loving arms of
her Son, Jesus Christ, the everlasting light and life.
Endnotes
de
Lubac, H. (1950). Catholicism: Christ and the Common Destiny of Man. Herder and
Herder.
Schillebeeckx,
E. (1974). Christ: The Experience of Jesus as Lord. Crossroad Publishing
Company.
Catechism
of the Catholic Church. (1993). Libreria Editrice Vaticana.
Pius
XII. (1950). Munificentissimus Deus. Apostolic Constitution on the Assumption
of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
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