Blessed are the sorrowful for they shall be consoled!

Homily for the Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows

15 September 2009

Benedictine College

Year for Priests

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I have seen a statue of Mary cry. It is not something that I ever demanded to see, or prayed to see. First of all, signs like this scare me. I like to pretend that my faith in God is strong enough without needing such signs, but such signs remind me of all the times when I pretend that God is much farther away than he really is. Such signs, which are such a gift, remind me of how different I could be, and I should be, should I choose to accept how close God really is. I didn't ask for this sign from our lady. I know many people pray for signs of where God is, but I wasn't praying for one. I was pretty comfortable right where I was. But there is was. Undeniable. While on mission in Honduras, we had heard that the Marian statue at the entrance of the new Catholic university in Santa Rosa de Copan, a statue just a few blocks from the orphanage where I was staying, had been shedding tears around 9pm in the evening. I was skeptical, and tired after a long day of travel through the mountain ranges surrounding Santa Rosa, so I really didn't want to go. But the sisters, and my fellow pilgrims, insisted. It was a clear night. No humidity, really. No reason for condensation whatsoever. There was none anywhere. We prayed the rosary along with 150 or so other pilgrims who had come to pray. It was a beautiful prayer. Good enough for me. I turned to go back to the cabs that were waiting to give us a ride back to the orphanage, stopping to exchange short greetings with some fellow pilgrims. I stopped just long enough, for before I got into the car, I heard loud shrieking and cries of amazement and joy as the statue started weeping. Before I knew it, the pilgrims around, knowing I had never seen this before, thrust me right to the front so that I was right under the statue. There they were, one tear after another, coming slowly but surely, right out of her eyes. Right down her face.

Obviously, this is a sign I will never forget. Like I said, I wasn't praying for a sign. I didn't think I needed one. But in looking back, I guess I needed to know that Mary was still crying. When I pray the mysteries of the rosary, I tend to think of Mary's suffering at the foot of the cross to be in the past, while her coronation is the present. I like to pretend that time has disallowed the overlap of emotions. I know I shouldn't do this, but I do. Maybe it is my sanguine personality, wanting everything to be alright sooner rather than later, pretending that the Resurrection of our Lord Jesus has redeemed the world more completely that what has yet to be realized, pretending that Mary's joy overshadows her sorrow. Today's feast, and the sign I saw, are a reminder to me that Mary weeps as deeply today as she did at the foot of the cross. As our mother, she weeps as much for the suffering of her children, for the Church militant and suffering which is her Son's body, as ever. And that is not an unfortunate thing, that Mary continues to weep for us. It is not a thought that we need to avoid, but one that should give us great consolation.

Whether it be gazing on the pieta, or singing my favorite song that I have ever sung, O vos omnes by Vittoria - look all you who pass by, and see if there is any sorrow like unto my sorrow - or simply meditating on our own broken hearts or the broken hearts and minds and bodies of our friends and enemies, today's memorial reminds us that our Lady weeps for us, and with us. Today's memorial teaches us that because our lady still weeps, it is ok for us to weep. Faith in the resurrection of Jesus does not mean that sorrow is an emotion we must avoid, or pretend does not exist, for there is no resurrection without first the tears that flow from the truth of the cross. Remember the beatitudes, by which we mark ourselves to be true children of heaven. Blessed are the sorrowful, for they shall be consoled. +M