The Carmelite friars have a church located on the slopes of Mount Carmel. From here one overlooks the port of Haifa in Israel, and one can see the ships coming and going from the busy seaport (shown in the photo above). A statue of Our Lady stands on a tall column outside this church, and it can be seen from a distance, providing guidance to those at sea. Our Lady has long been associated with the sea: St Jerome, following Eusebius said that the name Maryam is translated as ‘Drop of the sea’, stilla maris, which later in the Middle Ages became stella maris, star of the sea. Thus St Thomas Aquinas said that just “as sailors are guided by a star to the port, so are Christians guided to heaven by Mary”. Certainly, if one stands outside the Carmelite monastery of Stella Maris on Mount Carmel in Israel, and as one looks out across the port of Haifa and out to the sea, one can understand the effectiveness of this image: Here at Carmel, Mary guides us through the storms of this life to the safe harbour that is heaven, that is, her Son and our Saviour, Jesus Christ. 

The brown scapular of the Carmelites that is worn by millions of Catholics is a sacramental, a sign that one places oneself under Mary’s guidance. To wear the brown scapular is to remind oneself to always look to Mary for direction, to live under her protection and care so that, following her example of obedience to God’s Word, one might safely sail to our heavenly destination. The brown scapular of Our Lady of Mount Carmel is thus like the rudder that directs the ship homewards as our sails are propelled by the Breath of the Holy Spirit! 

In popular devotion, the brown scapular is often linked to the Holy Rosary, and stories are found in which St Dominic is said to have prophesied that Our Lady would save the world through the instrumentality of the brown scapular and the Rosary. There is truth in this because the scapular leads us to live by the humble obedience of Mary, the immaculate handmaid of the Lord, and the Rosary is but a meditation on the mysteries of our salvation. Indeed, if the scapular is the rudder, then the Rosary, I think, is the anchor. For one sometimes finds in Marian devotions and the prophesies of so-called mystics ideas and notions that, when unguided by the Magisterium of the Church or exaggerated by lay enthusiasm, can lead to superstition or a form of Pelagianism. The Rosary, with its concentrated and succinct meditations on the salvation that Christ has won for humanity, anchors us in the saving work of Jesus Christ and in the Gospels. Hence, it is true that if we use these sacramentals, these gifts from Our Lady, properly, then we shall not be led astray; through the brown scapular and the Rosary, Mary guides us to heaven, to Christ.

The Carmelite church on Mount Carmel is built around a cave in which Elijah had sheltered. In the Scriptures, the significance of Mount Carmel is that it was from this location that Elijah, during a time of terrible drought, saw a small cloud form far out at sea, and this cloud was a promise of rain, and thus a promise of relief from heat, of new life, and of God’s fidelity to his promises. This cloud is thus a symbol of Our Lady. For in the drought of our human existence due to original sin, the Immaculate Virgin is for all humanity a sign of God’s promises being fulfilled. In her, there is the promise of relief from sin and of new life and salvation, for through her we receive the Saviour of the world, the one of whom Isaiah said: “Shower, O heavens, from above, and let the skies rain down righteousness; let the earth open, that salvation may sprout forth” (Isa 45:8) Therefore the Gospel says today that “in his name the nations will put their hope”. 

Devotion to Our Lady of Mount Carmel, therefore, fills us with hope. In moments when the heat of the day is oppressive, that is to say, when life seems hard and wearisome, we look to the horizon with Elijah; we look to Mary, that little cloud who was overshadowed by the Holy Spirit, and we see in her faith, in her unwavering trust in God’s Word, even in the darkest moments, one in whom we can hope, and so we place ourselves under her motherly care and guidance. And, on the darkest of nights, when all other lights have failed, we look up to Mary, the maris stella, and so we follow her, the Lady of Mount Carmel, to the safe haven of Christ Jesus: we pray for that grace to follow her in her simple but most profound Fiat: “Let it be done to me according to your word.” Or as Mary herself put it: “Do whatever he tells you.” For Christ is the One promised by God who will, as Isaiah says in the Gospel today, lead us to victory.