This was in the announcements before the homily today (and yesterday, so I was very tickled to hear it again): solemnly, the priest said, “Our Lady requires men to carry her in procession this Wednesday; if you are interested to help, please contact Father Joshua.”
‘Our Lady requires men to carry her’–I was struck by how chivalric it sounded; immediately there was a tug at my heart, for there is a particular sweetness to the phenomenon of men (and boys, but especially grown men) acceding graciously to a noble lady–by which I include in the same breath their earthly mothers, monarchs, and Our Lady.
We’ve discussed this among my friends before, that there’s something so humbling and lovely about men with strong Marian devotions, just like there’s something particular about men who treat their mothers with sweetness and devotion. Daughters, of course, can have a tendency of viciousness towards their mothers, or a seasoned indifference, but the soliticiousness of a daughter is different from that of a son. A son’s is all the more distinguished by how counter-cultural it is. Like St John Paul II, for example, and his episcopal motto of Totus Tuus, or St Maximilian Kolbe and his devotion to the Immaculate Virgin.
As people keep trying to impress upon me this trip–and yes, God, if You’re reading my blog I’m beginning to get the message–Marian devotion is one of the best ways, if not an essential way, to grow in the spiritual life. She, after all, is the foremost among the apostles and Christians, and knows Jesus better than any human person did or would; it was her hand a toddler Jesus innocently clasped. (That image occurred to me this morning, and it’s been hard to shake.)
But there’s practising Marian devotions, like faithfully saying the rosary, or the Little Office, or wearing a scapular or any number of other things, and then there’s living Marian devotion. Like volunteering to bear Our Lady’s statue on your shoulder, to be at her service.
the lexical form 
