Mater Christi: Meditations on Our Lady

The Fourth and Fifth Dolours

"And thy own soul a sword shall pierce." (St Luke ii. 35.)

1st Prelude. (1) Mary meeting Jesus with His Cross.

(2) Mary witnessing the Crucifixion of Her Son.

2nd Prelude. Grace to understand what a precious gift suffering is.

Mary, with the knowledge which she had all her life of her Son's Passion, must have known when the hour was approaching. She had noticed the ever-increasing envy and hatred of the Chief Priests. She knew of the various attempts on His life, and of the organised plot to kill Him. And when the Passion itself began, we may be quite sure that, even if she were not actually a witness of some of the scenes, the Apostles kept her informed of what was going on. She would hear of the Agony in the Garden, of Judas' betrayal, of the desertion of the Apostles; then of the trials, of the scourging and crowning with thorns, of Pilate's vain attempts to save Him; she knew that they would be vain. And when at length the death sentence was passed, she set out with the other ministering women to be as near to Him as she could while He carried His Cross to Calvary. Once, at any rate, on the Way of the Cross they caught sight of each other, and had that unspeakable consolation which no one could give to Jesus but Mary, and no one to Mary but Jesus. But though it was a consolation, it was also an anguish so great, that this meeting of Jesus with His Blessed Mother is counted as one of the seven swords that pierced her heart. It is the Fourth Dolour. Then, on Calvary's hill, she must have heard, even if she did not see, the nails being driven in; and heard, too, something that gave her strength and courage at that terrible moment – her Son speaking to His Father, the crowning point of Whose "business" He had now reached: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Who can measure what the pain of this Fifth Dolour was to Mary! What was it that gave her an almost superhuman courage? The firm belief that everything she saw and heard was God's will; and such was the intensity with which she had said her Fiat, that His will was nearer to her even than her own sufferings. In proportion as this is the case with us shall we get the good that God intends out of suffering, and join, as Mary did, our prayers with those of Jesus by asking God's forgiveness for all who cause us suffering.

Then, as soon as the darkness permitted her to draw near without observation, she allowed John to take her to the Foot of the Cross, and there took up her stand. Her sacrifice was very near to its completion now. This is what she meant when she said her Fiat to the Angel Gabriel thirty-three years ago. This is what she meant when she presented Him to the Lord when He was forty days old. The three days' loss, and the separation when He left His home at Nazareth, had been a foreshadowing of this. Now the consummation of her sacrifice had arrived: "And there stood by the Cross of Jesus His Mother"! She had never flinched, had never looked back. It had been Fiat all along the line. She was a "valiant woman" to the end, bravely doing her part, and offering her Son to God.

This was Mary's sacrifice – but what is her part in the Sacrifice that her Son is offering to His Father for the world's redemption? Just this, that she provided the Victim. She did not withhold her Son – her only Son. (Gen. xxii. 16.) Jesus on Calvary offered Himself to the Father; and Mary assisted – not only by the perfect union of her will and intention with His, but actually, by providing Him with the Body which He was offering to His Father. Her position was that of the Deacon at High Mass. His part is not the offering of the Sacrifice – the Priest alone can do that – but He provides the Priest with the bread and wine which he is going to use for the Sacrifice, and without which there could be no Sacrifice. "A Body hast thou prepared Me"; and that Body came from Mary – it was with Blood drawn from her veins that He redeemed the world. But the Sacrificial Act was His, and His alone: "I have trodden the wine-press alone." (Isaias lxiii. 3.)

As she stood there taking her part, how her heart was enlarging! He was dying for the whole world – for the whole human race, past, present, and future – and she was His Mother; she was standing by and assisting; all His interests were hers. She had seen the conversions worked by Him on the Way of the Cross; she had seen the change in the dying thief; now Jesus addressed Himself to her, and by His Third Word from the Cross made her the Second Eve, the Mother of all living – of all for whom He was dying. "Woman, behold thy son!" Again He used the official title —Woman; He was not treating her now as His Mother, but rather as the Mother of all. Behold thy son; take John for thy son, and with him take the whole human race. He counted on her power of suffering, and it was through that suffering that she became the universal Mother. He knew how the sword would stab when she heard that she was to take John in His place, but He knew also that the wound made by that sword-thrust would enlarge her heart to take in her new family. He was dying, and His legacy to His Mother was the whole human race. The idea was not a new one to her, for He had been gradually training her up to it, as we have seen, ever since the Incarnation. He added another word to make all sure. He spoke now to John as the representative of the human race: "Behold thy Mother!" The immediate meaning of His words John very well understood – that he was to cherish, support, and take care of her; be a son to her now that her own Son was being taken from her. But He had an intention in that word for each one of us. To each and all He said: "Behold Thy Mother!" and from that moment all who will, have the right to take her to their own.

To what extent have I taken this word seriously? Have I really believed that Jesus had me in His mind as well as St John when He said: "Behold thy Mother!" that it was of me that He thought and to me that He spoke? Have I felt the responsibility as well as the honour of being a child of Mary, and that it is my bounden duty to love and cherish her, to support and take care of her – that is, to stand up for her and shield her from those who will not behold her as their Mother? O my Mother, I want more than ever to take thee to my own, as thy first adopted son did. Come home with me, live side by side with me, talk to me of Jesus, and thus help to pass the time when you see me getting weary; help me to imitate Him as thou didst, and to share His work by my prayer and sacrifice as thou didst. And then, Mother, thou wilt always be there to show me what sacrifice really means – how it enters into all the little details of everyday life – to show me what having my will united to thy Son's means. Thou wilt be there to put a restraining hand upon me and make me live as a child of Mary should; thou, to whom Jesus was subject, wilt teach me what real submission means. Yes, I am decided that to-day it shall be recorded of me in Heaven: "From that hour that disciple took her to his own."

Colloquy with Mary.

Resolution. To take Mary as the special gift of Jesus to me.

Spiritual Bouquet. "There stood by the Cross of Jesus His Mother."

The Sixth and Seventh Dolours

"And Joseph, buying fine linen and taking Him down, wrapped Him in the fine linen, and laid Him in a sepulchre which was hewed out of a rock." (St Mark xv. 46.)

1st Prelude. A picture of the Thirteenth Station.

2nd Prelude. Grace to be unselfish in my grief.

As Mary stands at her post, praying for her new family for whom her Son is dying, and uniting herself more closely than ever with His intentions, the sword never ceases to pierce afresh her wounded heart. She has to listen to the cry: "I thirst!" from the parched lips and throat of Him from Whom she had never heard a complaint; and she has to appear to be deaf to His needs. Again she hears a cry, more full of agony even than the last: "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me!" and she who once lost her Son for three days (the Third Dolour) can understand in some small degree the anguish of that cry. Then after His next words: "All is consummated," she hears Him commend His Soul to His Father, and she watches Him die. She is alone! And not only is she alone, but she has a sense of responsibility. Just as on the occasion of a death among us, the one next has to rise to the responsibility and act at once, so it was with Mary. She was the one next. She knew that it was to her that the Apostles and all His friends would turn to know what to do – what He would like done. He who had died on the Cross "was indeed the Son of God," and she was His Mother; she, if anyone did, must know all about Him. So, although all is over, there is no time for Mary to relax and give way to her grief. There is work to be done – work that He has left her. "It is finished" for Him, but she is only just beginning her work as Mother of the Church. And so she still stands at the Foot of the Cross, reverently worshipping the dead Body to which the Divinity is still united.

Her meditation was suddenly interrupted – "One of the soldiers with a spear pierced His Side"; and again Simeon's prophecy was fulfilled: "Thine own soul a sword shall pierce." Soon followed what is called her Sixth Dolour– the taking down of her Son from the Cross. He was in the hands of friends now, and all was done with the greatest reverence and loving tenderness. But nothing could stay the sword from piercing Mary's heart when she received into her hands the blood-stained Crown of Thorns and the rough nails. Nothing could stay it when she had her Jesus once more in her arms, and was able to see for herself the cruel wounds as she washed them and bound them up. Then when the precious Body had been wrapped in the winding sheet, she accompanied the little cortège which carried It to the tomb. And when, after a few minutes' adoration, she beckoned them all away, and the great stone was rolled to its place, the sword pierced her heart again – it was the Seventh Dolour– the burial of Jesus.

She allowed John to escort her past the three crosses, along the way which He had trodden, back to the Cenacle. "That disciple took her to his own." The next time we make the Way of the Cross, let us make it with Mary as John did. She will explain to us better than anyone else can, the meaning of each "station."

Mary has left Him now, but she is with Him still in spirit and in heart – hence her strength. What a lesson she gives us on how to act in times of bereavement! We are never to lose sight of the fact that this particular kind of suffering is intended for our sanctification. This will prevent us from allowing it to make us morbid, selfish, gloomy, inconsiderate, ungrateful, acting as though our suffering were greater than that of everybody else, being exacting and fastidious about things that remind us of our lost one – even of having the name mentioned in our presence! What about our sacrifice? Are not all such things as these a part of it? We have no business to add to the trials of others by our tyrannical selfishness. Sorrow ought to brace the soul up to greater heights of sanctity; if it depresses it to a lower level of spirituality, there is something very wrong with us. We are not copying Mary, neither are we uniting our sufferings to those of Jesus – the only way of making them meritorious. Let us see to it that our grief is a source of joy and blessing to everyone else in the house. This means self put on one side; it means a smiling face, a bright, cheery, voice in spite of a breaking heart. It means a great sympathy with the grief of others – and it often means that we shall get the credit of not really caring, of not having much depth of affection, not much heart! But this again is part of the sacrifice which we gladly offer if only it may aid suffering in doing its blessed work. There were those, no doubt, who were ready enough to say that Mary's calm courage was unnatural. But we know that it was supernatural: let us try to copy her in it.

What must have been the grief of the Apostles – their Friend, Teacher, and Lord dead, their hopes all dashed, and their consciences ill at ease as they thought of their base desertion of Him in His hour of need! They were scattered everyone to his own, but probably one by one they found their way back to the Cenacle. It was the last house where they had been all together with Him, and it seemed natural to go there again – and besides, His Mother was there. She was next to Him, and therefore more to them than anyone else could be. She had been faithful to the end. She could tell them more about Him than anyone else could. Her very voice and manner reminded them of Him. Somehow, they felt that she would look at things from His point of view, and that if she forgave them for the wrong they had done to her Son, He would. Then they would learn from John what Jesus had said about her with His dying lips – that they might now regard her in very deed as their Mother; that she was now in fact the Mother of the Church which He had founded; and that they could turn to her in their times of perplexity and difficulty. "Behold thy Mother" – the Mother of Good Counsel and the Mother of Mercy! Was it not just what they wanted? How well He knew! How thoughtful it was of Him to leave us Mary!

And so we may think of Mary on Holy Saturday rallying her new family round her, loving them for her Son's sake, making excuses for their weaknesses, as a mother ever does, and putting fresh heart and courage into them. And then we may think of her stealing away to ponder – to make the first Meditation on the Passion, presenting willingly her heart to the sword once more, that her compassion might fit her for her position as Mother of Mercy.

Colloquy with Mary, who says to me: For you, too, my child, "I am the Mother of fair love, and of fear, and of knowledge, and of holy hope. Come over to me, all ye that desire me, and be filled with my fruits. He that hearkeneth unto me shall not be confounded; and they that work by me shall not sin." (Ecclus. xxiv. 24-30.)

Resolution. To take my troubles and difficulties to Mary to-day.

Spiritual Bouquet. "Mater Dolorosa, Mater misericordiæ, ora pro nobis."

The First Glorious Mystery

"He shall reign for ever, and of His Kingdom there shall be no end." (St Luke i. 32, 33.)

1st Prelude. A picture or statue of Our Lady.

2nd Prelude. Grace to learn from Mary how to rejoice.

"Of His Kingdom there shall be no end." It was to Mary that these words were said, before her Son was born; and she believed them. She knew, therefore, that He would rise again; she knew that all was not finished when she left the precious Body in Joseph's new tomb. In all probability, too, Jesus had told her, as He told the Apostles, that He would rise again on the third day. And while they "believed not nor understood," she did both. But this supernatural gift of faith, which she exercised to the full, had not the power to prevent the sword from piercing on Good Friday and Holy Saturday. She felt the full weight of all her sorrow, but she sorrowed, as all Christian mourners should do, "not without hope."

What must her expectation have been as she knelt on that Holy Saturday night counting the minutes till the day dawned! She knew that He would rise again – but would she see Him? Would He come to her? He had kept her so much in the background during His ministry, perhaps He will do so still, and it will be to those who need Him most that He will come. No, sweet Mother, the meek and lowly of heart ever attract Him; it is to the heart which desires Him most that He will come. A pure, disinterested desire to have Jesus ever proves to Him an invincible attraction. No one on earth desired to see Jesus as Mary did, and it was to her, as the traditions of the Holy Fathers testify, that He came first – as soon as the Easter Day dawned and "death could no longer be holden of Him." The Evangelists are silent about this appearance of Jesus to His Blessed Mother, for the very good reason that she told them nothing about it. There was no need to do so, as, for example, there was to tell various little details about His Birth, because God wished us to know them. At this meeting of the Son and the Mother even Angels would fear to intrude; and we ordinary mortals simply should not understand what took place, even were it narrated to us. All those to whom He appeared would take it for granted that His Mother had seen Him – why write down a thing that everybody knew? "According to thy faith be it unto thee." Mary was the only one who had faith enough to believe that her Son would rise again, and it was only natural that she should be the first to see Him. She was the one who had entered most deeply into His sorrows, and she would be the one to whom He would first communicate the Easter joy. Let us now think a little about Mary's joy.

What joy it must have been to Mary to see that precious Body which He had taken from her, which she had nurtured and tended and loved, which she had seen so recently covered with scars and gaping wounds! What joy it must have been to her to see It in all the beauty of Its Resurrection – to see It glorified! Her joy was so intense that the saints tell us it was only by a miracle that her body could master her soul and keep it still a prisoner. And then the consolation of knowing that never again would He suffer – the joy of seeing the Five Wounds and knowing that He would keep them always, as precious memorials of His death and of His victory over death, of His undying love for His Church, and of His right to give it all that it should ever claim, because with those wounds He had more than paid for all that it would ever need.

Mary entered into all these truths as no one else could, and therefore her Easter joy was greater than that of anybody else. Her joy was greater, too, because her love was greater. Her love for Jesus was wholly unselfish, and so was her joy; it was wholly on account of the joy of her Son. She forgot her own joy for the moment; she forgot the long exile that lay before her; she forgot everything but His joy.

Her suffering also was indirectly another cause of her joy. Our capacity for joy is in proportion to our capacity for suffering. We have seen something of what Mary's capacity for suffering was, and so we can understand in some small measure how full was her cup of joy.

Mary had other joys too, which were incidental to the joy of seeing her Son risen and glorified. She saw the saints who rose with Him, for He would be sure to present them to His Mother. Some would need no introduction – her dear spouse St Joseph, her parents St Joachim and St Anne.

Yes, Mary's joys more than made up for her sorrows. One day, if we try to receive our cup of sorrow as Mary did, that is, take it forJesus and withJesus, we too shall receive the cup of joy, and we shall be able to say with St Paul as we put the two side by side: "The sufferings are not worthy to be compared with the glory." (Rom. viii. 18.)

Teach me, O holy Mother of God, something of this real joy – the joy that is arrived at through faith, through suffering, through a perfect union of heart with the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and through conformity to God's will; the joy of the risen life – the new life that rises out of the death to self.

Colloquy. The Regina Cœli: —

Resolution. To say my Fiat bravely with Mary, as the surest way of sharing her joy.

Spiritual Bouquet. "Causa nostræ lætitiæ, ora pro nobis."

The Second and Third Glorious Mysteries

"All these were persevering with one mind in prayer, with the women, and Mary the Mother of Jesus, and with His brethren." (Acts i. 14.)

1st Prelude. (1) A picture of the Ascension – Our Lady kissing the Footprints.

(2) A picture of the Descent of the Holy Ghost – a tongue of fire resting on the head of Our Lady, who is seated in the midst of the Apostles.

2nd Prelude. Grace to enter into the dispositions of Mary.

Many, no doubt, were the visits that Jesus paid to His Blessed Mother during the forty days that His glorified Body still lingered in this world of ours, as though He were loath to leave it. He was bracing her up for the time of exile that lay before her, filling her with stores of consolation upon which she would be able to draw in her times of desolation. She probably knew that the fortieth day was the last, and that, when He led His little flock out "as far as Bethania," it was His last walk with them. She knew of the "mountain appointed" where He wished all His brethren to assemble – "more than five hundred at once." (1 Cor. xv. 6.) She heard His last words, heard Him charge His witnesses: "Going, therefore, teach (make disciples of) all nations: and behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world." (St Matt. xxviii. 19, 20.) She was not to be a witness – though she was ever the silent witness of His Humanity – but it was only fitting that she should hear all the orders that were given to her children. She heard of the promise of the Father, and that they were to stay in the city till it was fulfilled. She saw Him lift up His hands in blessing – the last blessing; she watched with the rest His glorified Body raised up from their midst – watched till "a cloud received Him out of their sight," then she knelt in humble acquiescence to God's will and kissed the ground where He had just stood – the favoured bit of earth which was the last to be touched by His blessed Feet. When she looked up, it was to see two angels asking the astonished disciples why they were gazing into Heaven, and telling them that the same Jesus who was taken up from them into Heaven would so come again as they had seen Him go. It was not to her that the angels were speaking —she was not gazing up. She knew the lesson that the others were being taught, knew that her Son was already in Heaven, sitting at the right hand of God. (St Mark xvi. 19.) When the Apostles realised sufficiently what had happened, they, "adoring, went back to Jerusalem with joy," (St Luke xxiv. 52), and Mary led them to the Cenacle to "wait for the promise of the Father," as her Son had bidden them.

Thus she taught them the lesson she would teach all her children – that the only thing to do in times of desolation and sorrow is to follow closely the commands of Jesus: "Whatsoever He shall say to you, do ye." It is no use to stand gazing after what has gone; this is no time for regrets; He gave a clear command: "Go to Jerusalem and wait." We shall always find that there is no balm for sorrow like fidelity to duty. It costs something; human nature longs to stay and hug its sorrow; but it is far wiser to turn away from the loved spot and go bravely hand in hand with the Mother of Sorrows to do the next thing to which duty – that is the voice of Jesus – calls us.

Nine days they spent with Mary the Mother of Jesus, persevering with one mind in prayer, (Acts i. 14), and going constantly to the Temple to praise and bless God. (St Luke xxiv. 53.) It was a Novena of prayer and thanksgiving. It was Mary's first official act as Mother of the Church. She kept the little flock together, kept them close to her Son by obedience to His last command, by intercession for the great gift that He had promised to send them, and by thanksgiving for all that He had been to them and done for them. It was the first Retreat, and they made it with Mary, the Mother of God.