Attend Mass
The liturgy for the Seven Sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary is only retained on the old calendar, so if you’d like to attend a Seven Sorrows Mass, check out a Traditional Latin Mass near you (click here to explore).
Set up an altar to our Lady of Sorrows
From Fisheaters.com:
In many parts of Mexico, in a custom that dates back to 13th century Italian Servites, altars to Our Lady of Sorrows — altares de dolores — are set up with the Virgin’s image as Our Lady of Sorrows as the focus. The altars, which are often tiered, are decorated with such things as often ornate purple (or sometimes white, black, or red) tablecloths, seven small bottles or jars of (sometimes differently colored) water symbolizing Mary’s tears, white candles, elements that symbolize the Passion (e.g., the whip, nails, crown of thorns, dice, rooster symbolizing St. Peter’s betrayal, etc.), newly sprouting sage seeds to symbolize the Resurrection to come, tear-drop shaped glass droplets or crystals that hang down from above to symbolize tears, apples that symbolize Eve’s sin, bitter oranges — sometimes painted gold — with little golden flags piercing them to symbolize the swords piercing Our Lady’s heart, flowers (especially carnations, roses, lilies, chamomile, and calla lilies), etc.
Businesses and public institutions also set up altars to honor Our Lady’s sorrows at this time, and people of a given neighborhood make tours of each others’ altars. Upon visiting, the visitor asks “Did the Virgin cry?” The altar-owner responds affirmatively, a prayer is prayed together or a few verses of the Stabat Mater are sung, and the altar-owner offers the visitor a drink, sometimes fresh water, sometimes salted water to symbolize Our Lady’s tears, or sometimes Agua de Cuaresma that is filled with chunks of fresh fruit. Agua de Cuaeresma is a deep red, symbolizing the Blood of Christ.
Agua de Cuaresma
1 large beet (or a few small ones)
1/3 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups chopped cantaloupe
1 cup chopped apple
1 cup chopped strawberries
2 oranges, peeled with pith removed, chopped
2 bananas, sliced
1 1/2 cups shredded iceberg lettuce
Place beet(s) in a saucepan with enough water to cover over medium heat. Boil for 45 minutes. Drain and let cool. Peel, chop into large pieces, then place the pieces in a blender with a cup of water and blend until it’s smooth. Add 4 cups of water to a large pitcher. Add sugar and stir till dissolved. Add the beet puree through a sieve. Stir in the fruits and lettuce. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving.
Bring flowers to a Marian shrine
It is a pious tradition to bring flower to a shrine or grotto of Our Lady on her feasts.
The rose symbolizes Mary herself (she is known as the “Mystical Rose”—see Litany of Loreto) and is described in Dante’s Paradiso when the guide asks him to contemplate Mary, “Why are so enamored of my face that you do not turn your gaze to the beautiful garden which blossoms under the radiance of Christ? There is the Rose in which the Divine Word became flesh: here are the lilies whose perfume guides you in the right ways.”
Read The Martyrdom of Mary Was Never Equaled by St. Alphonsus Liguori
The words of the prophet Jeremias explain my meaning on this point:
To what shall I compare thee? or to what shall I liken thee, O daughter of Jerusalem? … for great as the sea is thy destruction; who shall heal thee? (Lam. 2:13) No, the acuteness of the sufferings of Mary are not to be compared, even with those of all the Martyrs united. “The Martyrdom of Mary,” says Saint Bernard, “was not caused by the executioner’s sword, but proceeded from bitter sorrow of heart.” In other Martyrs torments were inflicted on the body; but Mary’s sorrow was in her heart and soul, verifying in her the prophecy of Simeon, Thy own soul a sword shall pierce. (Luke 2:35)
Arnold of Chartres writes that “whoever had been on Mount Calvary, to witness the great sacrifice of the Immaculate Lamb, would there have beheld two great altars, the one in the Body of Jesus, the other in the heart of Mary; for on that Mount, when the Son sacrificed His Body by death, Mary sacrificed her soul by compassion.” So much so, says Saint Antoninus, that whereas other Martyrs sacrifice their own lives, the Blessed Virgin consummated her Martyrdom by sacrificing the life of her Son, a life which she loved far more than her own, and which caused her to endure a torment which exceeded all other torments ever endured by any mortal on earth.
As a general rule, the sufferings of children are also the sufferings of their mothers who are present at and witness their torments. This Saint Augustine declares, when speaking of the mother of the Machabees, who witnessed the execution of her children, Martyred by order of the cruel Antiochus: he says that “Love caused her to endure in her soul all the torments inflicted on each of her children.” Erasmus adds that “Mothers suffer more at the sight of the sufferings of their children than if the torments were inflicted on themselves.” This, however, is not always true; but in Mary it was verified; for she certainly suffered more in witnessing the sufferings of her Son than she would have done had she endured all the torments in her own person. “All the wounds,” says Saint Bonaventure, “which were scattered over the Body of Jesus were united in the heart of Mary, to torment her in the Passion of her Son” so that, as Saint Lawrence Justinian writes, “The heart of Mary, by compassion for her Son, became a mirror of His torments, in which might be seen, faithfully reflected, the spittings, the blows, the wounds, and all that Jesus suffered.” We can therefore say that Mary, on account of the love that she bore Him, was in heart, during the Passion of her Son, struck, scourged, crowned with thorns, and nailed to the very Cross of her Son.
The same Saint Lawrence considers Jesus on His road to Calvary, with the Cross on His shoulders, turning to Mary and saying to her, “Alas, My Own dear Mother, where are you going? What a scene will you witness? You will be agonized by My sufferings, and I by yours.” But the loving Mother would follow Him all the same, though she knew that, by being present at His death, she would have to endure a torment greater than any death. She saw that her Son carried the Cross to be crucified upon it; and, adds Abbot William, she also took up the cross of her sorrows, and followed her Son to be crucified with Him. Hence Saint Bonaventure considers Mary standing by the Cross of her dying Son, and asks her, saying, “O Lady, tell me where did you then stand—was it near the Cross? No, you were on the Cross itself, crucified with your Son.” About these words of the Redeemer, foretold by the prophet Isaias, I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of the Gentiles there is not a man with me. (Isaias 63:3) Richard of St. Lawrence says, “It is true, O Lord, that in the work of human redemption You did suffer alone, and that there was not a man that sufficiently pitied You; but there was a woman with You, and she was Your Own Mother; she suffered in her heart all that You endured in Your Body.”
To show the sufferings endured by other Martyrs they are represented with the instruments of their torture; Saint Andrew with a cross, Saint Paul with a sword, Saint Lawrence with a gridiron; Mary is represented with her dead Son in her arms; for He alone was the instrument of her Martyrdom, and compassion for Him made her the Queen of Martyrs. On this subject of Mary’s compassion in the death of Jesus Christ, Father Pinamonti gives expression to a beautiful and remarkable opinion: he says, that “the grief of Mary in the passion of her Son was so great, that she alone compassionated in a degree by any means adequate to its merits the death of a God made man for the love of man.”
Blessed Amadeus also writes, that “Mary suffered much more in the Passion of her Son than she would have done if she herself had endured it; for she loved her Jesus much more than she loved herself,” Hence Saint Ildephonsus did not hesitate to assert, that “the sufferings of Mary exceed those of all Martyrs united together.” Saint Anselm, addressing the Blessed Virgin, says, “The most cruel torments inflicted on the holy Martyrs were trifling or as nothing in comparison with your Martyrdom, O Mary.” The same Saint adds, “Indeed, O Lady, in each moment of your life your sufferings were such that you could not have endured them, and would have expired under them, had not your Son, the source of your life, preserved you.” Saint Bernadine of Sienna even says, that “the sufferings of Mary were such that had they been divided among all creatures capable of suffering, they would have caused their immediate death.” Who, then, can ever doubt that the Martyrdom of Mary was without its equal, and that it exceeded the sufferings of all the Martyrs; since, as Saint Antoninus says, “they suffered in the sacrifice of their own lives; but the Blessed Virgin suffered by offering the life of her Son to God, a life which she loved far more than her own.”
The Martyrs suffered under the torments inflicted on them by tyrants; but Our Lord, Who never abandons His servants, always comforted them in the midst of their sufferings. The love of God, which burnt in their hearts, rendered all these sufferings sweet and pleasing to them. Saint Vincent suffered, when on the rack he was torn with pincers and burnt with hot iron plates; but Saint Augustine says that “the Saint spoke with such contempt of his torments, that it seemed as if it was one who spoke and another who suffered.” Saint Boniface suffered when the flesh was torn from his body with iron hooks, sharp reeds were forced under his nails and melted lead was poured into his mouth; but in the midst of all, he could never cease to thank Jesus Christ, Who allowed him to suffer for His love. Saint Lawrence suffered when roasting on a gridiron; “but the love which inflamed him,” says Saint Augustine, “did not allow him to feel the fire, or even that prolonged death itself.”
The greater the love of the Martyrs for Jesus Christ, the less they felt their pains: and in the midst of them all, the remembrance of the Passion of Christ sufficed to console them. With Mary it was precisely the reverse; for the torments of Jesus were her Martyrdom, and love for Jesus was her only executioner. Here we must repeat the words of Jeremias: As the sea is all bitterness, and has not within its bosom a single drop of water which is sweet, so also was the heart of Mary all bitterness, and without the least consolation: Who shall heal you? Her Son alone could heal her and heal her wounds; but how could Mary receive comfort in her grief from her crucified Son, since the love she bore Him was the whole cause of her Martyrdom?
“To understand, then, how great was the grief of Mary, we must understand,” says Cornelius a Lapide, “how great was the love she bore her Son.” But who can ever measure this love?
Blessed Amadeus says, that “natural love towards Him as her Son, and supernatural love towards Him as her God, were united in the heart of Mary.”
These two loves were blended into one, and this so great a love that William of Paris does not hesitate to assert, that Mary loved Jesus ”as much as it was possible for a pure creature to love Him.” So that, as Richard of St. Victor says, ”as no other creature loved God as Mary loved Him, so there was never any sorrow like Mary’s sorrow.”
Now there stood by the Cross of Jesus His Mother. Let us stay awhile to consider these words before concluding our discourse; but I entreat you to renew your attention.
There stood. When Jesus was on the Cross, the disciples had already abandoned Him; they had done so from the moment in which He was taken in the Garden of Olives: then the disciples all leaving Him fled. (Matt. 26:56) The disciples abandoned Him; but His loving Mother did not abandon Him; she remained with Him until He expired.
There stood by. Mothers fly when they see their children suffer much, and are unable to give them relief; they have not the strength to endure the torment, and therefore fly to a distance. Mary beheld her Son in agony on the Cross; she saw that His sufferings were slowly depriving Him of life; she desired to relieve Him in that last extremity, but could not; but with all this she did not fly, she did not go to a distance, but drew nearer to the Cross on which her Son was dying.
She stood by the Cross. The Cross was the hard bed on which Jesus Christ had to die. Mary, who stood by its side, never turned her eyes from Him; she beheld Him all torn by the scourges, thorns, and nails; she saw that her poor Son, suspended by those three iron hooks, found no repose. She, as I have already said, would have desired to give Him some relief; she would have desired, at least, that He should have expired in her arms; but no, even this is forbidden her. “Ah, Cross!” she must have said, “restore me my Son; you are a gibbet for malefactors, but my Son is innocent.” But wait, O sorrowful Mother; God’s will is that the Cross should only restore you your Son when He has expired.
Saint Bonaventure, considering the sorrow of Mary in the death of her Son, writes, that “no grief was more bitter than hers, because no son was as dear as her Son.” Since, then, there never was a son more worthy than Jesus, nor any mother who ever loved as Mary loved, what sorrow can be compared with the sorrow of Mary? “Ah, there never has been in the world a more amiable Son than Jesus,” says Richard of St. Lawrence, “nor was there ever so loving a Mother. Had there been less love between this Mother and Son, His death would have been less cruel, their griefs would have been diminished: but the more tender were their loves, the deeper were their wounds.” Mary saw that death approached her Son; therefore, casting her compassionate eyes upon Him, she seemed to say, “Ah, Son, You already depart, already You leave me; and are You silent? Give me a last remembrance.” Yes, He did so. Jesus Christ left her a remembrance; it was this: Woman, He said, behold your son, referring to Saint John, who stood near; and with these words He bade her farewell. He called her woman, that by the sweet name of mother He might not increase her grief: Woman, behold your son, he will take charge of you when I am dead.
There stood by the Cross of Jesus His Mother. Let us, finally observe Mary, who stood at the foot of the Cross and beheld her Son expire. But, a God, what Son was it that died? It was a Son Who from all eternity had chosen her for His Mother, and had preferred her in His love to all men and Angels: it was a Son so beautiful, so holy, so amiable; a Son Who had always obeyed her; a Son Who was her only love, for He was her Son and her God; and Mary had to see Him die before her eyes, of pure suffering. But behold, the hour of the death of Jesus has already come; the afflicted Mother saw her Son then enduring the last assaults of death; behold, again, His Body was already sinking, His head drooped down on His breast, His mouth opened, and He expired. The people cry out, “He is dead! He is dead!” And Mary also said, “Ah, my Jesus, my Son, You are now dead!”
When Jesus was dead, He was taken down from the Cross. Mary received Him with outstretched arms; she then pressed Him to her heart, and examined that head wounded by the thorns, those hands pierced with nails, and that body all lacerated and torn. “Ah, Son,” she said, “to what has Your love for men reduced You!” But the disciples, fearing that with her Son clasped in her arms she would die of grief, out of compassion approached her, and with reverential determination, removed her Son from her arms, wrapped Him in the winding sheet, and carried Him away to bury Him. The other holy women accompanied Him, and with them the sorrowful Mother followed her Son to the tomb; where, having herself deposited Him with her own hands, she bade Him a last farewell and retired. Saint Bernard says, that ”as Mary passed along the way, her sorrow and grief were such, that all who met her were thereby moved to tears;” and he adds that “those who accompanied her were weeping rather for her than for Our Lord.”
My readers, let us be devout to the sorrows of Mary. Saint Albert the Great writes, that ”as we are under great obligations to Jesus Christ for His death, so also are we under great obligations to Mary for the grief which she endured when she offered her Son to God by death for our salvation.” This the Angel revealed to Saint Bridget: he said that the Blessed Virgin, to see us saved, herself offered the life of her Son to the Eternal Father: a sacrifice which, as we have already said, cost her greater suffering than all the torments of the Martyrs, or even death itself. But the Divine Mother complained to Saint Bridget that very few pitied her in her sorrows, and that the greater part of the world lived in entire forgetfulness of them. Therefore she exhorted the Saint, saying: “Though many forget me, don’t you, my daughter, forget me.” For this purpose the Blessed Virgin herself appeared in the year 1239 to the founder of the Order of the Servites, or Servants of Mary, to requested them to institute a religious order in remembrance of her sorrows; and this they did.
Jesus Himself one day spoke to Blessed Veronica of Binasco, saying, “Daughter, tears shed over My Passion are dear to Me: but as I love My Mother Mary with an immense love, the meditation of the sorrows which she endured at My death is also very dear to Me.” It is also well to know, as Pelbart relates it, that it was revealed to Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, that Our Lord had promised four special graces to those who are devout to the sorrows of Mary: First, that those who before death invoke the Divine Mother, in the name of her sorrows, should obtain true repentance of all their sins: Second, that He would protect all who have this devotion in their tribulations, and that He would protect them especially at the hour of death: Third, that He would impress upon their minds the remembrance of His Passion, and that they should have their reward for it in Heaven: Fourth, that He would commit such devout clients to the hands of Mary, with the power to dispose of them in whatever manner she might please, and to obtain for them all the graces she might desire.
Read from Dom Gueranger’s The Liturgical Year
This Friday of Passion-week is consecrated in a special manner, to the sufferings which the holy Mother of God endured at the foot of the Cross. The whole of next week is fully taken up with the celebration of the mysteries of Jesus’ Passion; and although the remembrance of Mary’s share in those sufferings is often brought before the faithful during Holy Week, yet, the thought of what her Son, our divine Redeemer, goes through for our salvation, so absorbs our attention and love, that it is not then possible to honour, as it deserves, the sublime mystery of the Mother’s com-passion.
It was but fitting, therefore, that one day in the year should be set apart for this sacred duty: and what day could be more appropriate than the Friday of this week, which, though sacred to the Passion, admits the celebration of saints’ feasts, as we have already noticed? As far back as the fifteenth century (that is, in the year 1423), we find the pious archbishop of Cologne, Theodoric, prescribing this feast to be kept by his people. [Labb. Concil. t. xii. p. 365.] It was gradually introduced, and with the knowledge of the holy See, into several other countries; and at length, in the last century, Pope Benedict XIII, by a decree dated August 22, 1727, ordered it to be kept in the whole Church under the name of the Feast of the Seven Dolours of the Blessed Virgin Mary, for, up to this time, it had gone under various names. We will explain the title thus given to it, as also the first origin of the devotion of the Seven Dolours, when our Liturgical Year brings us to the third Sunday of September, the second feast of Mary’s Dolours. What the Church proposes to her children’s devotion for this Friday of Passion-week, is that one special dolour of Mary – her standing at the foot of the cross. Among the various titles given to this feast before it was extended by the holy See to the whole Church, we may mention, Our Lady of Pity, the Compassion of our Lady, and the one that was so popular throughout France, Notre Dame de la Pamoison. These few historical observations prove that this feast was dear to the devotion of the people, even before it received the solemn sanction of the Church.
That we may clearly understand the object of this feast, and spend it, as the Church would have us do, in paying due honour to the Mother of God and of men, we must recall to our minds this great truth: that God, in the designs of His infinite wisdom, has willed that Mary should have a share in the work of the world’s redemption. The mystery of the present feast is one of the applications of this divine law, a law which reveals to us the whole magnificence of God’s plan; it is, also, one of the many realizations of the prophecy, that Satan’s pride was to be crushed by a woman. In the work of our redemption there are three interventions of Mary; that is, she was thrice called upon to take part in what God Himself did. The first of these was in the Incarnation of the Word, who would not take flesh in her virginal womb until she had given her consent to become His Mother; and this she gave by that solemn FIAT which blessed the world with a Saviour. The second was in the sacrifice which Jesus consummated on Calvary, where she was present that she might take part in the expiatory offering. The third was on the day of Pentecost, when she received the Holy Ghost, as did the apostles, in order that she might effectively labour in the establishment of the Church. “We have already explained, on the feast of the Annunciation, the share Mary had in that wonderful mystery of the Incarnation, which God wrought for His own glory and for man’s redemption and sanctification. On the feast of Pentecost we shall speak of the Church commencing and progressing under the active influence of the Mother of God. To-day we must show what part she took in the mystery of her Son’s Passion; we must tell the sufferings, the Dolours, she endured at the foot of the cross, and the claims she thereby won to our filial gratitude.
On the fortieth day after the birth of our Emmanuel, we followed to the temple the happy Mother carrying her divine Babe in her arms. A venerable old man was there, waiting to receive her Child; and, when he had Him in his arms, he proclaimed Him to be the Light of the Gentiles, and the glory of Israel. But, turning to the Mother, he spoke to her these heart-rending words: ‘Behold! this Child is set to be a sign that shall be contradicted, and a sword shall pierce thine own soul.’ This prophecy of sorrow for the Mother told us that the holy joys of Christmas were over, and that the season of trial, for both Jesus and Mary, had begun. It had, indeed, begun; for, from the night of the flight into Egypt, up to this present day, when the malice of the Jews is plotting the great crime, what else has the life of our Jesus been, but the bearing of humiliation, insult, persecution, and ingratitude? And if so, what has the Mother gone through? what ceaseless anxiety? what endless anguish of heart? But let us pass by all her other sufferings, and come to the morning of the great Friday.
Mary knows that, on the previous night, her Son has been betrayed by one of His disciples, that is, by one that Jesus had numbered among His intimate friends; she herself had often given him proofs of her maternal affection. After a cruel Agony, her Son has been manacled as a malefactor, and led by armed men to Caiphas, His worst enemy. Thence, they have dragged Him before the Roman governor, whose sanction the chief priests and scribes must have before they can put Jesus to death. Mary is in Jerusalem; Magdalene, and the other holy women, the friends of Jesus, are with her; but they cannot prevent her from hearing the loud shouts of the people, and if they could, how is such a heart as hers to be slow in its forebodings? The report spreads rapidly through the city that the Roman governor is being urged to sentence Jesus to be crucified. Whilst the entire populace is on the move towards Calvary, shouting out their blasphemous insults at her Jesus, will His Mother keep away, she that bore Him in her womb, and fed Him at her breast? Shall His enemies be eager to glut their eyes with the cruel sight, and His own Mother be afraid to be near Him?
The air resounded with the yells of the mob. Joseph of Arimathea, the noble counsellor, was not there, neither was the learned Nicodemus; they kept at home, grieving over what was done. The crowd that went before and after the divine Victim was made up of wretches without hearts, saving only a few who were seen to weep as they went along; they were women; Jesus saw them, and spoke to them. And if these women from mere sentiments of veneration, or, at most, of gratitude, thus testified their compassion, would Mary do less? Could she bear to be elsewhere than close to her Jesus? Our motive for insisting so much upon this point is that we may show our detestation of that school of modern rationalism, which, regardless of the instincts of a mother’s heart and of all tradition, has dared to call in question the meeting of Jesus and Mary on the way to Calvary. These systematic contradictors are too prudent to deny that Mary was present when Jesus was crucified; the Gospel is too explicit: Mary stood near the cross: [St. John xix. 26] but they would persuade us that, whilst the daughters of Jerusalem courageously walked after Jesus, Mary went up to Calvary by some secret path! What a heartless insult to the love of the incomparable Mother.
No; Mary, who is, by excellence, the valiant woman, [Prov. xxxi. 10] was with Jesus as He carried His cross. And who could describe her anguish and her love, as her eye met that of her Son tottering under His heavy load P Who could tell the affection and the resignation of the look He gave her in return? Who could depict the eager and respectful tenderness wherewith Magdalene and the other holy women grouped around this Mother, as she followed her Jesus up to Calvary, there to see Him crucified and die? The distance between the fourth and the tenth Station of the Dolorous Way is long: it is marked with Jesus’ Blood, and with His Mother’s tears.
Jesus and Mary have reached the summit of the hill that is to be the altar of the holiest and most cruel Sacrifice: but the divine decree permits not the Mother as yet to approach her Son. When the Victim is ready, then she that is to offer Him shall come forward. Meanwhile, they nail her Jesus to the cross; and each blow of the hammer is a wound to Mary’s heart. When, at last, she is permitted to approach, accompanied by the beloved disciple (who has made amends for his cowardly flight), and the disconsolate Magdalene and the other holy women, what unutterable anguish must have filled the soul of this Mother, when raising up her eyes, she sees the mangled Body of her Son, stretched upon the cross, with His face all covered with blood, and His head wreathed with a crown of thorns!
Here, then, is this King of Israel, of whom the angel had told her such glorious things in his prophecy! Here is that Son of hers, whom she has loved both as her God and as the fruit of her own womb! And who are they that have reduced Him to this pitiable state? Men – for whose sake rather than for her own, she conceived Him, gave Him birth, and nourished Him! Oh! if by one of those miracles, which His heavenly Father could so easily work, He might be again restored to her! If that divine justice, which He has taken upon Himself to appease, would be satisfied with what He has already suffered! But no: He must die; He must breathe forth His blessed Soul after a long and cruel agony.
Mary then is at the foot of the cross, there to witness the death of her Son. He is soon to be separated from her. In three hours’ time, all that will be left her of this beloved Jesus will be a lifeless Body, wounded from head to foot. Our words are too cold for such a scene as this: let us listen to those of St. Bernard, which the Church has inserted in her Matins of this feast. ‘O blessed Mother! a sword of sorrow pierced thy soul, and we may well call thee more than martyr, for the intensity of thy compassion surpassed all that a bodily passion could produce. Could any sword have made thee smart so much as that word which pierced thy heart, reaching unto the division of the soul and the spirit: ” “Woman! behold thy Son!” What an exchange! John for Jesus! the servant, for the Lord! the disciple for the Master! the son of Zebedee, for the Son of God I a mere man, for the very God! How must thy most loving heart have been pierced with the sound of those words, when even ours, that are hard as stone and steel, break down as we think of them! Ah! my brethren, be not surprised when you are told that Mary was a martyr in her soul. Let him alone be surprised, who has forgotten that St. Paul counts it as one of the greatest sins of the Gentiles, that they were without affection. Who could say that of Mary? God forbid it be said of us, the servants of Mary!’ [Sermon on the twelve stars.]
Amid the shouts and insults vociferated by the enemies of Jesus, Mary’s quick ear has heard these words, which tell her, that the only son she is henceforth to have on earth is one of adoption. Her maternal joys of Bethlehem and Nazareth are all gone; they make her present sorrow the bitterer; she was the Mother of a God, and men have taken Him from her! Her last and fondest look at her Jesus, her own dearest Jesus, tells her that He is suffering a burning thirst, and she cannot give Him to drink I His eyes grow dim; His head droops; all is consummated.
Mary cannot leave the cross; love brought her thither; love keeps her there, whatever may happen! A soldier advances near that hallowed spot; she sees him lift up his spear, and thrust it through the breast of the sacred Corpse. ‘Ah!’ cries out St. Bernard, ‘that thrust is through thy soul, O blessed Mother! It could but open His side, but it pierced thy very soul. His Soul was not there; thine was, and could not but be so.’ [Sermon on the twelve stars.] The undaunted Mother keeps close to the Body of her Son. She watches them as they take it down from the cross; and when, at last, the friends of Jesus, with all the respect due to both Mother and Son, enable her to embrace it, she raises it upon her lap, and He that once lay upon her knees receiving the homage of the eastern kings, now lies there cold, mangled, bleeding, dead! And as she looks upon the wounds of the divine Victim, she gives them the highest honour in the power of creatures: she kisses them, she bathes them with her tears, she adores them, but oh! with what intensity of grief!
The hour is far advanced; and before sunset, He, Jesus, the author of life, must be buried. The Mother puts the whole vehemence of her love into a last kiss, and oppressed with a bitterness great as is the sea, [Lam. i. 4, ii. 13] she makes over this adorable Body to them that have to embalm and then lay it on the sepulchral slab. The sepulchre is closed; and Mary, accompanied by John, her adopted son, and Magdalene, and the holy women, and the two disciples that have presided over the burial, returns sorrowing to the deicide city.
Now, in all this, there is another mystery besides that of Mary’s sufferings. Her dolours at the foot of the cross include and imply a truth, which we must not pass by, or we shall not understand the full beauty of to-day’s feast. Why would God have her assist in person at such a scene as this of Calvary? Why was not she, as well as Joseph, taken out of this world before this terrible day of Jesus’ death? Because God had assigned her a great office for that day, and it was to be under the tree of the cross that she, the second Eve, was to discharge her office. As the heavenly Father had waited for her consent before He sent His Son into the world: so, likewise, He called for her obedience and devotedness, when the hour came for that Son to be offered up in sacrifice for the world’s redemption. Was not Jesus hers? her Child? her own and dearest treasure? And yet, God gave Him not to her, until she had consented to become His Mother; in like manner, He would not take Him from her, unless she gave Him back.
But see what this involved, see what a struggle it entailed upon this most loving heart! It is the injustice, the cruelty, of men that rob her of her Son; how can she, His Mother, ratify, by her consent, the death of Him, whom she loved with a twofold love, as her Son, and as her God? But, on the other hand, if Jesus be not put to death, the human race is left a prey to Satan, sin is not atoned for, and all the honours and joys of her being Mother of God are of no use or blessing to us. This Virgin of Nazareth, this noblest heart, this purest creature, whose affections were never blunted with the selfishness which so easily makes its way into souls that have been wounded by original sin, what will she do? Her devotedness to mankind, her conformity with the will of her Son who so vehemently desires the world’s salvation, lead her, a second time, to pronounce the solemn FIAT: she consents to the immolation of her Son. It is not God’s justice that takes Him from her; it is she herself that gives Him up. But, in return, she is raised to a degree of greatness, which her humility could never have suspected was to be hers: an ineffable union is made to exist between the two offerings, that of the Incarnate Word, and that of Mary; the Blood of the divine Victim, and the tears of the Mother, flow together for the redemption of mankind.
We can now understand the conduct and the courage of this Mother of sorrows. Unlike that other mother, of whom the Scripture speaks – the unhappy Agar, who after having sought in vain how she might quench the thirst of her Ismael in the desert, withdrew from him that she might not see him die? Mary no sooner hears that Jesus is condemned to death, than she rises, hastens to Him, and follows Him to the place where He is to die. And what is her attitude at the foot of His cross? Does her matchless grief overpower her? Does she swoon? or fall? No: the Evangelist says: ‘ There stood by the cross of Jesus, His Mother.’ [St. John xix. 25.] The sacrificing priest stands, when offering at the altar; Mary stood for such a sacrifice as hers was to be. St. Ambrose, whose affectionate heart and profound appreciation of the mysteries of religion have revealed to us so many precious traits of Mary’s character, thus speaks of her position at the foot of the cross: ‘She stood opposite the cross, gazing with maternal love on the wounds of her Son; and thus she stood, not waiting for her Jesus to die, but for the world to be saved.’ [In Lucam cap. xxiii.]
Thus, this Mother of sorrows, when standing on Calvary, blessed us who deserved but maledictions; she loved us; she sacrificed her Son for our salvation. In spite of all the feelings of her maternal heart, she gave back to the eternal Father the divine treasure He had entrusted to her keeping. The sword pierced through and through her soul, but we were saved; and she, though a mere creature, co-operated with her Son in the work of our salvation. Can we wonder, after this, that Jesus chose this moment for making her the Mother of men, in the person of John the evangelist, who represented us? Never had Mary’s heart loved us as she did then; from that time forward, therefore, let this second Eve be the true Mother of the living! [Gen. iii. 20.] The sword, by piercing her immaculate heart, has given us admission there. For time and eternity, Mary will extend to us the love she has borne for her Son, for she has just heard Him saying to her that we are her children. He is our Lord, for He has redeemed us; she is our Lady, for she generously co-operated in our redemption.
Animated by this confidence, O Mother of sorrows! we come before thee, on this feast of thy dolours, to offer thee our filial love. Jesus, the blessed Fruit of thy womb, filled thee with joy as thou gavest Him birth; we, thy adopted children, entered into thy heart by the cruel piercing of the sword of suffering. And yet, O Mary! love us, for thou didst co-operate with our divine Redeemer in saving us. How can we not trust in the love of thy generous heart, when we know that, for our salvation, thou didst unite thyself to the Sacrifice of thy Jesus? “What proofs hast thou unceasingly given us of thy maternal tenderness, O Queen of mercy! O refuge of sinners! O untiring advocate for us in all our miseries! Deign, sweet Mother, to watch over us, during these days of grace. Give us to feel and relish the Passion of thy Son. It was consummated in thy presence; thine own share in it was magnificent! Oh! make us enter into all its mysteries, that so our souls, redeemed by the Blood of thy Son, and helped by thy tears, may be thoroughly converted to the Lord, and persevere, henceforward, faithful in His service.