IN MARY’S HOUSE
Earlier this year, I had the privilege to visit the Sanctuary of the Holy House in Loreto, a quiet town perched along the eastern coast of Italy. Nestled within a towering church complex lies something quite incredible: the walls of the house where, according to tradition, Mary received the Annunciation. The church itself is breathtaking, richly adorned with centuries of patronages from around the world. Yet, despite all the grandeur, the place it protects remains profoundly humble.
Now, you might be wondering, “Since when did Mary live in Italy?” Well, legend states that the house was miraculously brought over by angels from Nazareth in the late Middle Ages. A more practical explanation suggests it was brought over by ship during the collapse of the crusader states. The bricks have been dated to Nazareth in the time of Christ, and although we can never be certain, in the words of my old spiritual director, “It’s close enough.”
I remembered as I walked into the house, I was just struck with how small it was— barely half the size of my tiny LA apartment! I watched as pilgrims leaned their heads against the ancient brick walls, praying— some in tears, their emotions laid bare before God. I could hear people shuffling on their knees outside, circumambulating the marble casing that protects the house, whispering in countless languages for God and the Blessed Virgin to help them. The sheer devotion in this space was palpable, and as I walked out, I saw that centuries of prayer had worn visible tracks into the marble floor.
In that moment, I felt the full weight of our shared humanity. Yes, this was the place where God came to Mary to share His extraordinary plan for her. But it was also the place where He embraced the fragility of His people, gently saying, “Yes, I am with you.”
God looked upon a world crying out in pain and, like a loving father, came to comfort it. He bore our burdens—not because He had to, but because He loves us. He chose weakness so we might be made strong. He humbled Himself to lift us up to Him. All He asks is our trust in His grace.
I only stayed in Loreto for a short while, but I did get the opportunity to go to mass in the Holy House. As I stood there that morning, packed like sardines into the tiny space, groggy from jet lag and waking up way too early, I couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming truth of “God is with us,” even in all our messiness and hurt.
As we continue along this Lenten journey, how can we become more aware of God’s presence in our lives? More importantly, how can we approach Him with honesty and humility, opening ourselves to His grace as Mary did?
Darren Huang