Today we honor Mary not as the Queen of Heaven, but as Our Lady of Sorrows. This feast asks us to look directly at the intersection of hum...
Today we honor Mary not as the Queen of Heaven, but as Our Lady of Sorrows. This feast asks us to look directly at the intersection of human suffering and divine faith. Mary’s entire life was marked by this intersection, prophesied by Simeon when he said a sword would pierce her heart.
In the Gospel, we see that prophecy fulfilled. She is facing the ultimate Sorrow a mother can endure: watching her innocent Son be tortured, mocked, and executed. It is an unimaginable, crushing grief.
Yet, in the face of this overwhelming sorrow, what does the Gospel tell us? It says she was Standing. She does not faint. She does not flee. She does not collapse in despair or rage at the injustice. She is standing by the cross. This act of standing is not passivity; it is fidelity. It is the most powerful active choice she could make—to remain present, to share in His suffering, and to offer her agony in union with His.
Where did she get this ability? She received a supernatural Strength. This is not the strength of human denial or stoicism; it is the strength that comes from perfect faith. It is the strength of a woman who held the Word of God in her womb, pondered it in her heart, and trusted God’s plan even when it led her into the darkest shadow of death.
Our Lady of Sorrows teaches us that faith does not exempt us from sorrow. But it does give us the divine strength to keep standing, even at the foot of our own crosses, remaining faithful disciples until the very end.
ALTERNATIVE:
Today we celebrate the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, and the Gospel paints one of the most powerful and heartbreaking images in all of scripture: "Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother..."
Standing. It seems like such a passive word, doesn't it? When we are confronted by overwhelming tragedy, agonizing pain, or the deep suffering of those we love, our instinct isn't to stand. Our instinct is to run away, to hide, to collapse in despair, or to rage at the injustice of it all.
But Mary stands. She doesn't flee. She doesn't faint. She doesn't scream at the soldiers or beg Pilate. She simply stands. This "standing" is not passivity; it is the single most powerful act of strength and fidelity possible in that moment. She stands in solidarity with her Son. She stands in the darkness of human cruelty, bearing the unbearable weight of a mother’s grief, and she endures. That sword, prophesied by Simeon, is piercing her heart, yet she remains present.
In our own lives, we will all face our own crosses. We will face the suffering of illness, the pain of betrayal, the sorrow of losing someone we love. And like Mary, we are called not necessarily to fix everything—because she couldn't fix the cross—but to stand. We are called to stand by those who are suffering, to be present even when we have no words. We are called to stand firm in our faith when the world tells us our hope is foolish.
Today, Our Lady of Sorrows teaches us that true strength isn't the absence of pain; it's the refusal to let pain have the final word. It is the courage to stay, to love, and to trust that even when we are standing in the shadow of death, the dawn of the Resurrection is coming. May we ask the Blessed Mother for the grace of her strength, so that when suffering finds us, we, too, may be found standing.
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