The Song That Death Cannot Silence

The Dormition of the Theotokos

Preacher: Met. John Gregory

Lectionary: Isaiah 61:10–11; Psalm 34; Galatians 4:4–7; Luke 1:46–55

Introduction

Beloved in Christ, today we celebrate one of the most profound feasts of the Church: the Dormition of the Theotokos, the falling asleep of the Mother of God. It is a day filled with paradox. We are here to remember the death of Mary, yet we do so with hymns of joy, with festal colors, and with the language of victory. The world around us often sees death as defeat, as the end of all things. But in the mystery of Christ, and especially in the Dormition of His Mother, the Church proclaims something different: that death is not annihilation but transformation, not despair but hope, not silence but song.

It is fitting, then, that our readings today weave together themes of salvation, adoption, and prophetic witness. Isaiah proclaims that God has clothed us in garments of salvation. Paul reminds us that God’s Son was “born of a woman” so that we might receive adoption as children of God. And Luke gives us Mary’s own voice in the Magnificat, a song that continues to echo through the ages. Together, they help us see why the Dormition is not just about Mary, but about us, about the whole destiny of humanity in Christ.

Part I: Mary as the Garment of Salvation (Isaiah 61:10–11)

“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God; for He has clothed me with the garments of salvation, He has covered me with the robe of righteousness.”

Isaiah’s words speak to a people waiting for redemption, longing for God to restore what was broken. These verses describe the joy of one who has been utterly transformed — like a bride adorned for her wedding day, like a field bursting with new life.

Mary’s entire life is a witness to this reality. From the moment she said yes to the angel’s announcement, her existence was clothed in God’s promise. She became the living garment in which the Word of God took flesh. Her yes did not make her immune from suffering — she knew hardship, misunderstanding, and the sorrow of watching her Son die. But through it all, she was clothed in the promise that God’s salvation was being revealed through her.

At her Dormition, this promise was fulfilled in its fullness. The robe of mortality was laid aside, and she was clothed in glory. Tradition tells us that her body did not know corruption, because the one who bore the Lord of Life could not be abandoned to decay. For us, this is not only a story about Mary. It is a glimpse of our own destiny. In Christ, we too will be clothed in incorruption. Death will not strip us bare; rather, it will be the moment when God clothes us with salvation.

What does this mean for our lives here and now? It means that even in our moments of weakness, shame, or failure, God is already clothing us with grace. Every act of forgiveness, every word of encouragement, every decision to live in love is a way of putting on that robe of righteousness. Mary shows us that holiness is not about perfection, but about saying yes to being clothed by God.

Part II: Mary as Mother of Adoption (Galatians 4:4–7)

“But when the fullness of time had come, God sent His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.”

Paul does not name Mary directly here, but her presence is unmistakable. The Incarnation happened not in a vacuum, but through her. The eternal Word of God took on human flesh in her womb. It was through her that Christ entered our world, and through Him that we are made children of God.

This passage highlights two truths: that Christ is fully divine and fully human, and that His humanity is inseparably tied to Mary. Our adoption into God’s family comes through her motherhood. In the language of our Convergent Catholic theology, salvation is always relational. We do not save ourselves by abstract ideas or by sheer effort. Salvation comes by relationship — by God’s relationship with us in Christ, and by the relationships that mediate that grace. Mary’s yes opened the way for our adoption.

This tells us something essential about discipleship. Our yes matters, not just for us, but for others. When we say yes to God’s call — whether in raising children, in serving the poor, in forgiving an enemy, or in building communities of justice — we create space for others to encounter God’s grace. Just as Mary’s obedience became the doorway to salvation for the world, so our obedience can become the doorway for others to discover their adoption as God’s children.

So on this feast, we honor Mary not only as Mother of God, but also as our mother, the mother of all who are adopted into God’s family through Christ. In her Dormition, she does not leave us orphaned, but continues to pray for us and with us, reminding us of the home that awaits us in the household of God.

Part III: Mary’s Prophetic Voice (Luke 1:46–55)

The Gospel reading today is Mary’s own song, the Magnificat. “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” It is a song of joy, but also of revolution. Mary declares that God has scattered the proud, cast down the mighty, and lifted up the lowly. She sings of a God who fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty.

This is not the quiet piety of someone resigned to fate. This is the bold proclamation of a prophet who sees the world turned upside down by God’s kingdom. Her words are as dangerous today as they were two thousand years ago, because they call us to resist every system that exalts the powerful and crushes the weak.

Even in her Dormition, Mary’s voice is not silenced. The Magnificat continues to resound through the Church, calling us to join her in magnifying the Lord by our lives. The question for us is this: when we fall asleep in the Lord, what song will we leave behind? Will it be a song of fear and self-preservation, or a song of courage, justice, and mercy?

To follow Mary is to take up the Magnificat as our own. It is to live in such a way that our lives become a song of God’s justice and compassion. And the Dormition teaches us that such a song does not end with death. It continues in the communion of saints, echoing forever in the presence of God.

Part IV: Mary’s Death as Hope for Ours

The Church does not speak of Mary’s “end,” but of her “falling asleep.” The Greek word koimesis captures this sense of peaceful rest, like laying down after a long day’s labor. In Christ, death is not annihilation but a passage into rest and transformation.

The Fathers of the Church taught that Mary’s body did not see corruption because she bore the Lord of Life. But their point was not to exalt her above humanity; it was to reveal what humanity is called to become. In her Dormition, we glimpse the future of all who are in Christ.

We, too, will one day fall asleep. We, too, will entrust our lives into the hands of God. And in that moment, Mary’s Dormition stands as a sign of hope. If she who was so fully human could be raised into glory, then so can we. If death could not silence her song, then neither will it silence ours.

This is profoundly pastoral. Many of us have faced the death of loved ones. Many carry grief in their hearts today. The Dormition does not dismiss that grief, but it reframes it. It tells us that our loved ones who have fallen asleep in Christ are not lost, but live in God’s presence. It tells us that our own death, when it comes, will not be a final separation, but a transformation into life with God.

Psalm 34, our psalm today, gives us the words of that hope: “I sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my fears.” That is Mary’s testimony, and it can be ours as well.

Part V: Mary as Model of Discipleship

Why does the Church exalt Mary so highly? Not because of worldly power or privilege, but because she was faithful. She said yes to God. She lived humbly, she loved deeply, and she persevered in faith even at the foot of the cross.

Her greatness lies not in domination, but in surrender; not in wealth, but in trust. She is the first disciple, the one who shows us what it means to be Church.

For us, as Convergent Catholics, her witness is especially relevant. We are called to inclusivity, to embody God’s welcome, to be a Church where East and West, men and women, rich and poor, all find a home. Mary models this openness. She received the Word into her body without conditions, and she gave Him to the world without reserve. Our calling is the same: to receive God’s love fully, and to give it freely.

Her Dormition becomes a reminder that discipleship does not end in this life. Faithfulness bears fruit even beyond death. Our yes to God can ripple across generations, just as Mary’s yes continues to bless the world.

Conclusion

So what does the Dormition teach us today?

First, it teaches us that death is transformation, not defeat. Mary’s falling asleep shows us what God intends for all humanity — that we will be clothed in glory, raised in Christ, and never abandoned to decay.

Second, it teaches us that discipleship is about saying yes. Mary’s yes opened the way for Christ’s coming; our yes can open the way for others to encounter God.

Third, it teaches us that witness does not end with death. Mary’s Magnificat continues to resound, calling us to join her in magnifying the Lord through lives of justice, mercy, and hope.

Beloved, as we celebrate her Dormition, let us entrust ourselves to her example and her prayers. May we, like her, fall asleep in Christ with confidence. May we rise with her in glory. And may we, with her, sing forever of the God who scatters the proud, lifts up the lowly, fills the hungry, and clothes His people with salvation.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom with the Father and the Holy Spirit be all glory, now and forever. Amen.