Waiting Like Mary... in Haste!

As a kid had the impression that there was no Eucharist on the planet the day after Good Friday. Those Saturdays - even with the crying kids, dying of eggs, and cleaning of the house - were very quiet. I always had this sense that the birds were quieter, the streets quieter, and so much seemed to go in slow motion. I was confused, knowing that he had to be present - but I didn't know where. I joyfully waited for Easter to relieve me of this. As I got older, I reasoned that Jesus was in Australia, and imagined Easter beginning on the other side of the world. It became more a day of anticipation, of standing outside the tomb waiting my turn to see the risen Lord. Older still, I realized that Jesus was in many tabernacles throughout North America - and reposed in side chapels awaiting the big day - and I finally understood why the world didn't fall apart on Holy Saturday. Jesus never left. 

He still hasn't.

In our Institute, we celebrate the "hour of the Madonna" today. The Lord has died, his body lays in a tomb,
and his mother is waiting. She didn't wait like the little me - confused by the uncertainty of the day - nor did she wait like the adolescent me  - with a mind totally preoccupied by realities far away. She waited as only she could... with joyful hope.

Though the details of Mary's words and actions are not revealed, everything that the Lord wished to reveal is certainly written. The apparent scarcity of detail magnifies the word of God, and the person of Mary, for us to readily understand if we have the courage. Over and over again we find Mary hopeful, obedient, prayerful, and faithful. On the first Holy Saturday - silent and sorrowful - it was no different as the Scriptures have revealed.

From the very beginning of the Gospels she was hailed as blessed for believing in the promise of the Lord. She knew that her Son was dead, but she also knew that he promised to rise again. Undoubtedly, so filled with grace, she was able to pierce through the obscurity of the day that so tortured the apostles - and wait in peace. All that she had pondered in her heart, losing him for three days, the prophecy of the sword, was coming into sharp focus.

We can be sure that she was united to her Son through obedience, and that this obedience moved her to charity as it had her entire life. Instead of running to her cousin Elizabeth, she was with John as Jesus had willed. After they departed from the tomb, where they had followed Jewish custom for burial, we don't know exactly what she did. One may conclude that she went with John to the other Apostles - since they were together on Easter Sunday. The same Woman that lost Jesus in the temple, that hurried the hour at the wedding feast, and that prayed at the foot of the Cross, continued to carry out the will of God with haste and to care for the children she had embraced at the cross as she had cared for Christ these 33 years. WHAT LOVE!!!

Words fail me, and so we ponder these things in our heart and pray on this Holy Saturday to be like Mary, to be Mary's, in accordance with the Will of God.

The Passion of Mary

By Jillian Cooke, MTh, MAPM

Fr. Kolbe Missionary of the Immaculata

Originally written for Be Not Afraid cancer ministry

 Mary shed no blood, received no blows, and did not know the gradual loss of health through old age anddeath. Yet, Mary's Passion was a real passion, a death to self, a loss of all held dear, a slow letting go and a persevering adherence to God's holy will. Mary's heart was pierced by a sword of spiritual, psychological, and emotional steel. As sparsely as Mary is present in the Gospels, they reveal this Passion undergone by our Mother and how she can teach us and accompany us through our own.

Mary and Joseph presented their healthy and holy baby boy in the temple, and were told that he would be a sign of contradiction and that she, herself, would suffer greatly for the sake of the "many." They lost sight of God, literally. Upon finding him, she was challenged to rethink her relationship with her Son and husband, Joseph. At some point in her young life she lost her guardian, the foster-father of her Son, and husband Joseph to death. She saw Jesus "leave the home" and manifest himself before the world, with miracles, prayers, teaching, and admonition; she knew the sign was beginning to be seen by all. She witnessed his arrest, imprisonment, torture, and death. Mary's heart was pierced; Christ was already dead when the lance went through his flesh, but his Mother stood watching and felt that cold steel like only a mother could.  She held his dead body, buried his purified corpse, and she prayed with those who had betrayed his friendship. She rejoiced at the resurrection, but then only watched as he ascended once again to his Father, perhaps recalling that time in the Temple many years ago. She was left behind to do his will.

Through it all, Mary loved and became Mother not only to these men, but to the whole world… blessed among women, faithful among generations. She did not always understand, but rather than giving up or giving in, she pondered these things in heart and faithfully pursued the will of God - by staying with her Son.

Mary's passion gives us "permission" to grieve, not only loss through death, but the many, many losses associated with cancer and similar illnesses. When something changes, there is always a loss involved, because one thing cannot change without giving up something in order to take on something else. Mary could not watch her Son go out into the world without losing the little boy, she could not be redeemed without experiencing his death, she could not discover the Father's will without losing him in the temple.

Mary's passion invites us to recognize and respect, honor and accept the quiet passion that purifies and transforms the simplest parts of life when we suffer that poignant empathy that we call compassion.

Mary's passion reminds us that we will not always understand, and we ought to ponder these things of uncertainty in the peace of our own hearts.

Mary's passion is a star in the dark night, a compass in our agony, a sure and steady hope in our pursuit of heaven. She is that peace in the stormy souls of the afflicted, because her Passion is Christ's, because she is Christ's! 

Mother of Tears

Giovanni Battista Salvi da Sassoferrato

When I met her the first time, I did not have the impression that she was exceptional. The only thing that struck me was her sweet disposition and constant smile. She seemed without problems: happy marriage, nine living, healthy children, a normal life.

I saw her almost every morning at Holy Mass. When I got to know her better, I found that under her sweet smile a strong woman hid. She had overcome many trials, some of them very difficult.

Sure, she had a beautiful family, united and apparently without problems; but who would have known how much this cost her? How many tears she shed, when her husband had left her in Mexico with three small children in order to look for work in the United States!

"I felt like a widow," she said one day. "Then I decided to join him. Everyone called me crazy." They asked, "What will you do? He doesn't even have a house. What will you do with these three little ones?" She just replied, "I have to go. I must go. My place is with my husband; We will fight this together, and together find the strength to  keep going."

And so it went. The family was reunited. But how much suffering! Tears, and more tears. But she always found the courage to smile at her children - first three, then four, five, six.... nine. She made her husband feel that riches weren't the whole of life. The most important thing for the children (ant them) was love and education.

Everyday, after working in the houses of the rich and returning to her humble home, she had her children sit near her and taught them simple prayers and read from the Bible. Then, when her husband returned, they ate a frugal meal and put the children to bed. At this point she would have loved to talk to her husband, but more often than not she met a wall. He was tired, discouraged, frustrated. More tears - hidden behind a peaceful face.

The children grew and the problems multiplied. What happened to the times when they'd sit and listen to stories from their mom?

Each one took their own road: hurried and unhappy marriages, divorces, dubious relationships...and her husband always closed within himself, unable to open up to a healthy relationship.

Now, nothing is infinite, and the family reached a certain level of well-being. But it still had a ways to go, and she would be asked once again to wipe away her tears. One night her son called late at night, because he was in need. She replied, "Let me know what day you need it and I will find the money to pay." "Be patient, yes, I will talk to your father!"

Where did she find the strength to open her arms and heart to a son that married, divorced, married, and then had an affair (and children) with the first wife!?

She opened the door to her grandchildren, because they were not at fault. From this moment a real family was born from this strange union. Her heart accepted them with love, but not just any love, a love that had supernatural characteristics.

As I understood more of her life, I saw clearly where she found the strength to maintain erect with dignity in the middle of the storm: from She who was poor, humble, hidden, and suffering. She knew the misery of exile. She saw her son judged and mistreated. She accompanied her son even to the foot of the cross. May was her strength, comfort, and the source of her joy.

Every day she prayed the Rosary. First with all her children and sometimes her spouse. Now, it is only her - the sweet, strong woman.

A great serenity fills her, knowing with faith that

everything and everyone is in the hands of Mary.