Our Lady of Sorrows

“Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.” Jn 19:25

Who stands by you compassionately when you are struggling or lost? 

In the Office of Readings today, St Bernard of Clairvaux, writing in the 12^th century, calls Mary “a martyr in spirit,” because of her compassion, never abandoning her son even on the cross. Bernard writes: “Perhaps someone will say: “Had she not known before that he would not die?” Undoubtedly. “Did she not expect him to rise again at once?” Surely. “And still she grieved over her crucified Son?” Intensely. Who are you and what is the source of your wisdom that you are more surprised at the compassion of Mary than at the passion of Mary’s Son? For if he could die in body, could she not die with him in spirit? He died in body through a love greater than anyone had known. She died in spirit through a love unlike any other since his.”(1)

Standing with others in their suffering, not taking it away, not offering empty words of consolation, not trying to understand it, is a kind of death, a martyrdom. Helplessness is often the price of compassion and Mary, the mother of Jesus and our mother, helps us learn this vital Christian virtue.

Today, perhaps as you gaze at a crucifix, try to stand in solidarity and compassion with all those suffering alone.  Think of the very old in nursing homes without families.  Think of young people struggling to understand the loss of a mother to cancer. Think and pray with those who lost their jobs, their homes and their self respect. Think of the the people of Somalia scuffling anyplace to find food for their children. Don’t search for words. Just be there like Mary at the foot of the cross. Although it is terribly painful to be helpless, it can be a holy act. Our Lady of Sorrows will guide you along this path of compassion if you allow her to show you the way.

Widows

"As he drew near to the gate of the city, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. A large crowd from the city was with her." Lk 7:12

There are two things in today’s gospel that move me and remind me that the gospel is about transformation, not just information.  No doubt I have said this before, but I often worry that Catholics don’t think of themselves as disciples. Discipleship, they say, is too high an honor, and with a false sense of humility, suggest that they do not deserve such a title.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  We don't deserve or gain discipleship. It is a free gift from God who has called all of us to discipleship through baptism. We are to speak and live the good news with integrity, honesty and conviction. Jesus’ response to the widowed mother in today's gospel is a perfect example for us to follow.

Widows were in real danger in the world of Jesus.  They rarely owned property, were often illiterate and had to rely on their eldest son for sustenance and a place to live.  If a woman’s only son died before her she became dependent on the charity of her extended family.  Further if she was young enough, and her brother in law was willing, she would have to marry him in order to produce another son who would be considered her first husband’s child. The brother in law could refuse to marry his brother’s wife, but the woman had no choice. (Deut 25: 5-10) When, in today's gospel, Jesus sees the widow whose only son has died “he was moved with pity for her.” Knowing her vulnerability and grief, he touches her son and brings him back to life.  Jesus' compassion is a wonderful example for us, not just to guide our concern of widows, but to remind us to care for the poor and anyone without a voice, an identity or social standing in our society.

The gospel also tells us that a large crowd was with the widow.  Was she popular? Had her husband been wealthy or an important figure in town?  Was her son prominent in their village? We are not told any of these details, but I prefer to think that the crowd, knowing her vulnerability,  wanted simply to accompany her as she let go of her only son and lifeline. Again, there is a simple lesson for us.  We might not always be able to do something for others to make their lives better, but we can all accompany one another in faith.  In the end, there is nothing more important.

Birth of Mary

"She was found with child through the holy Spirit." (Lk 1:18)

One of the most challenging and easily ignored aspects of salvation history is the sketchiness of Jesus' genealogy. Although very uncommon in Jewish record keeping, five women are mentioned, two of whom are prostitutes and one an adulteress.  This is no accident.  The gospels will consistently remind us that unless we think outside the box, we will miss the power of Christ's life and mission.

The gospel is about conversion and redemption.  All of us make mistakes, some of them egregious and overwhelming.  If we allow ourselves to get trapped in these mistakes than the possibility of forgiveness and transformation will seem impossible. The gospel is full of stories of forgiveness and new life. In fact,  Matthew mentions the word forgiveness 47 times. Even more important are the stories of faith and courage, the most dramatic of which is Mary's. 

Anxious and upset about the angel's message to her that she would become pregnant, she resists, and only after being reassured that her pregnancy is of the Holy Spirit does she consent to God's will for her.  But what impresses me even more is her willingness, after being reassured that God is with her, to visit her cousin Elizabeth who was also newly pregnant. No Jewish woman would venture to travel alone for fear she would be judged a prostitute, but Luke's Gospel suggests that Mary's confidence in God was such that traveling alone and being judged harshly meant nothing to her. 

Mary continues to astound us, even after the death of Jesus.  Despite the fact that the gospel's tell us that his disciples abandoned her son during his suffering and death, Mary continues to accompany them (Acts 1), and we can be sure, she will accompany us.  Mary has been given to us not only as the mother of Jesus, but our mother. The birth of Mary reminds us to depend on her not only as an icon of faith, but as a mother to whom we can always turn.

Spiritual Blindness

“Blind fools, which is greater, the gold, or the temple that made the gold sacred?” (Mt 23, 17)

Jesus’ rant against the Pharisees is painful to read no matter how many times we return to it.  There seems to be no wiggle room whatever for the Pharisees. Jesus sounds full of rage at them and we wonder why.  What we do know about the Pharisees is that they regularly sought “conversions” among observant Jews to their way of leading an authentic Jewish life. (1) They demanded that their “converts” eat properly tithed food and be ritually pure. However, there seems to be little evidence that a conversion of this kind affected the lives of the newly converted. In other words, conversion to phariseeism was more of an internal and personal experience of reform, but had little to do with the redoing of one’s entire life.  Perhaps that is the source of Jesus’ anger.  

In a contemporary setting, those of us who profess to be “practicing” Catholics might work very hard at keeping the laws of the church, rigorously observe the Sunday mass obligation, fast and abstain from meat during Lent, and contribute to the upkeep of the church by regular contributions, but rarely if ever make changes to our lives that help us to be more conformed to Christ and authentic witnesses of a gospel life.

Today's gospel challenges us to think about our personal and communal blindness. What is it as individuals and communities that we must reflect upon and change?  Almost every Sunday I think about young people and young adults because I rarely see them in church. Are we too upset, too confused to acknowledge this?  What do we need to do to attract young people to a faith filled life?  I am not talking about changing the liturgy so that it might be more lively and attractive to them.  I am thinking about what they catch from us who profess belief.  Do they catch a passion for prayer, the poor, new immigrants, and those who feel isolated from the church for any reason?

Today I invite you to think about what others “catch” from us. Do others witness our compassion and understanding, and feel challenged to live a counter cultural life?  Or do they simply see observant Christians whose faith seems not to affect their everyday lives?