Our Lady’s Faith in Sorrow: An Ignatian Prayer Reflection

Editor’s Note: The following article uses creative writing and Ignatian spirituality to portray the experiences of the Blessed Mother during her Son’s final days on earth.

I was being chased by jackals. There was a burning pain in my side. I knew I couldn’t go much further; I knew the jackals would overtake me. I stumbled and fell to my knees grazing my hands. As I tensed for the attack, the howling of the jackals changed to voices of a crowd of people. They first sounded elated, but as they grew closer, it was a sound of hatred. They, like the jackals, wanted blood.

I woke with my heart pounding drenched in sweat. As realization returned, I knew myself to be on my pallet in our home in Nazareth. I looked out the window in the wall and saw the first rays of the sun. I rose wearily, unable to shake the memory of the fear in my dream.

I began the day praying, “Blessed are you Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments.” Today I added, “my God, let it be done to me according to Your will.” I knew that regardless of what lay ahead, my trust is in God. I continued my day with a heaviness in my heart.

Towards evening, John arrived. I could tell he had come from a distance and was full of such emotion—it was close to hysteria.

“Mary, Mary, mother of Jesus, have you heard? Your Son has raised a man from the dead! Do you understand? In a crowd of people and mourners, He raised Lazarus who had been dead and in a tomb for four days! I saw with my own eyes as Lazarus walked out of the tomb wrapped in burial cloth!”

“Where is my Son now?” I asked him.

“He is on the way to Jerusalem to celebrate Passover.”

I replied, “Take me to Him.”

On the second day of our journey, as we neared the gates of Jerusalem, John said we must enter at the East gate. “That is the direction Jesus is coming from, so He will enter there.” He explained.

As we got closer to the gate, we could hear the crowds. From a distance it sounded like a roar, but as we drew closer, we could hear the jubilant “Hosannas.”

John said in joy, “They know now that the Messiah is here. They know Jesus is the Christ. Peter said Jesus was the Son of God, but the rest of us finally understood when we were with Him in Bethany.”

I caught a glimpse of Jesus riding on a white colt. People were waving palm branches and laying their cloaks before the path of the donkey.

“John, go and join the other apostles. He needs you now. I will look for my sister and stay with her.”

I went to the temple and entered the women’s area. There I found my sister and Mary of Magdala.

I was invited into her home after worship.

Late that evening, Andrew came to tell us that Jesus had been arrested by the Guards of the Sanhedrin.

Mary of Magdala rushed out. I knew she would go to the palace of the High Priest Caiaphas.

Early next morning, John came to us. “Pilate has given the command to put Jesus to death.”

“Take me there,” I told John,

“Oh, Mary, you do not want to see what has been done to Him. Pilate had Him beaten, and they put a crown of thorns on His head in mockery. The Priests told Pilate that Jesus had said that He was King of the Jews.”

“I must be with Him.”

I rose from the bench and headed toward the door. My sister came with me. “John, stay with us. We don’t want to be lost in the crowds.”

When we came to the place, people were lining the pathway. Some were jeering, and some were groaning and weeping.

I saw my Son bearing the weight of a cross. Because of His scourging and loss of blood, He could barely stay upright under the burden. As I watched, He fell and was nearly crushed by the cross. I rushed to Him, reaching for Him. We looked into each other’s eyes for what seemed a lifetime, sharing everything that had been between us.

John pulled me away, and I fell against him, nearly overcome.

“Let me take you away,” John begged.

“No, I must be with Him.” I repeated a second time.

I watched as the guards goaded Jesus to stand up, and then pulled a man from the crowd to help carry the cross. They must have realized Jesus might die before they could crucify Him.

We arrived at the hill called Golgotha. The guards pushed the crowds back. A Centurian strode forward and said, “These people are His family, let them stay.”

I watched them drag Jesus to the ground after stripping off His garments. They stretched out His arms and took nails. They began to hammer them through His wrists and feet, into the wood. I heard my Son cry out in agony. I turned and fell to my knees. My stomach heaved.

John said, “This is enough! Please, let me take you away!”

He helped me up, and we looked at each other. John said no more—just put his arm around me to help support my weight.

Jesus, now up on the cross, turned His head toward us. He said to John, “Behold your Mother.” And then to me: “Woman, behold your son.”

We remained there with Him through the hours, agonizing with Him as He struggled for each breath.

After He died, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus took Him down from the cross. I rushed over to them and received the body of my Son in my arms. I remembered the words of Simeon in the temple: “A sword will pierce your soul too.” I knew now the reason for the sorrow I would carry in my heart for the rest of my life.

I followed to see where they laid Him. The other women and I, without having to speak, planned to return after Passover to complete the final burial rites.

John took me back to the room where they had shared the Passover feast with Jesus.

I was exhausted, unable to eat. I could only take a little water. They made me a pallet, and I sank down utterly spent.

I woke, not realizing at the time that I had slept through an entire day. I felt a presence at my side.

Someone gently took my hand. I turned my head toward the person. He was so dazzling I could not make out His features, but I knew that voice.

“Mother, I thank you for your sacrifice. I want to ask you if you are willing to accept the role ahead of you. Do you know what I mean by that?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I must be everyone’s Mother now.”

Jesus smiled and said, “Again the ‘yes.’ When you come to me and my Father in paradise, we will crown you for your humility and obedience.”

I became fully awake and knew He was gone. In His place, I saw the bright light of the rising sun through the window.

Peter and John, after identifying themselves at the locked door, burst into the room.

“He is not in the tomb!” they cried.

James cried out, “who took Him? We must find Him!”

Peter turned to James and said to him, “Mary Magdalene has seen Him. He will come to us.”

Phillip cried out, “What nonsense is this? Mary must be crazed by grief.”

“No,” Peter replied and directed his next words to everyone in the room. “He is risen, just as He told us.”

Peter looked at me.

“Yes, He is risen. Just as He said.” I confirmed. “He came to me too.”

“Now it is our turn to share the good news.”

My Son has asked me to be a Mother to all. For anyone who asks me, I will be their Mother and point the path they must take toward my Son. I will tell them, “Do whatever He tells you.” This is the role I have been given, and I will pray for you always, asking my Son to help you.

Cristóbal de Villalpando. (1680s). Our Lady of Sorrows [painting]. Retrieved from Wikimedia Commons.