On my pilgrimage, I reflected back on this beautiful eulogy.,,
For Mary Milligan, RSHM
Each of us has shared in the life and love of the woman in whose memory we gather this evening to keep vigil. Mary Milligan and I shared two loves: A love of theology, and a love of most, if not all, things French.
The German Lutheran theologian Dorothee Soelle sums up the theologian’s habit, the theologian’s quest over the course of a lifetime, in the lapidary phrase: “There are never enough names and images for what we love.”
When Mary Milligan said goodbye to Saint John’s Seminary in Camarillo several years ago, she handed me this small card. On it are 43 names for the one she loved above all others and all else. Here are just a few of those names:
Gracious gift, timeless mystery, silent listener, passionate presence, giver of all gifts, crutch for those who limp, sight to the blind, holy light, breath that I breathe. . . God.
“There are never enough names.” What are the names for the one we have loved, whose loving without calculation has brought us to this place named Sacred Heart: Mickey, Mother Bernard Marie, truly our sister, Mary. Woman of the Word.Lover of Learning. Teacher. Grace. Poise. Quiet zeal. Faithful, hopeful, loving companion. Friend. Vigilant. Alert. Attentive. Receptive. Beholding beauty. The woman who could never say no to God. “Dieu le veut ainsi!” God wishes it so. And so! The woman of goodbyes: to family, Los Angeles, New York,Beziers and Neuilly in France, to Rome and Brazil and Portugal and Zimbabwe and Zambia, to Camarillo, Montebello and Orange in California.
The woman whose heart just would not stop beating when the rest of her had gone from us. Mary whose heart would not quit, only quieted, and now quickens us with all the love one heart can hold. “There are never enough names.”
On the morning of her passing I read aloud to Mary the scriptures of the day. I chuckled an apology to her because it was the Gospel of Luke, not John – the one she knew and loved so well. In the afternoon I wanted to read the psalms to her. I took one of several bibles from her shelf. Marking the place of the first Psalm in her bible was this small sheet of paper. In Mary’s distinctive hand are these words:
“God of 1,000 names, faces. We gather here in your holy presence once more this day. We have met you in so many ways, in so many places and in no place at all.
Send us your Spirit, your Sophia, your wisdom to help us discover again your feminine face – a face of beauty which brings us all to new birth.”
If Mary knew how to speak to God, indeed to speak the language of God, she knew just as well how to speak the language of the angels – French. Over many years I would greet her in the words of the angel Gabriel, the opening of the Hail Mary: Je vous salut Marie! Salut Michel, ca va? Our conversation would continue and, of course, she would outpace me every time. She was fluent in speaking the language of angels – Angels -- those messengers, bearers of glad tidings, harbingers of good news in every place, time and tongue.
On parting it was always tout a l’heure (see you soon) or au revoir (see you again). But this night we gather to say “Adieu.” A final farewell. Goodbye. A Dieu – to God.
The God of 1,000 names, faces – en plus – still more. And still more again.
Mary, you have told us what you have seen along the way. Now rest. And wait for us in that place – which is no place at all – in that name whose name above all naming is love – where we will never have to say goodbye to you again. Michael Downey April 8, 2011
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