This reflection is part of an ongoing Lenten series adapted from my devotional booklet The Tears of the Theotokos. Each entry draws us deeper into the Seven Sorrows of Mary, inviting us to contemplate not only her maternal suffering, but the merciful consolations that flow from her union with Christ’s Passion. In this fourth sorrow—Mary’s encounter with Jesus on the road to Calvary—we hear His prophetic words to the women of Jerusalem, echoing across time: Weep not for Me, but for yourselves and for your children.
Meditation:
There was an elder who walked the streets in ceaseless prayer, weaving the atmosphere of Heaven into the restless hum of the city. Each time sirens pierced the air, he would pause, entrusting both the hands of the first responders and the soul of the afflicted to the Divine Physician. It was a habit learned in childhood—his mother, with quiet reverence, would cross herself each time they passed a car wreck.
In such moments of carnage, we often feel helpless, knowing that nothing we say or do can erase the sorrow. Yet we are not without hope. St. Maximilian Kolbe reminds us, “Prayer revives the world. Prayer is the indispensable condition for the regeneration and life of every soul.”
Within the depths of her soul, the Theotokos must have cried out—a silent lament as piercing as the wail of sirens. Yet outwardly, she stood a pillar of steadfast love. Before her Son, she remained in unceasing prayer, powerless to halt the horror unfolding yet surrendering each moment to the Father. No words passed between them—only a gaze, a communion beyond speech.
When faced with suffering, our instinct is often to turn away, to avert our eyes from tragedy. But Mary did not turn away. She who guided His first steps stood witness to His last. In her, we see the Lord’s words fulfilled: A servant is not greater than his master (John 15:20). If we long to share in the glory of the Resurrection, we must also enter into His Passion.
To be a disciple is to shoulder the cross—not once, but daily, until our final breath. Yet we are not left to bear it alone. The Queen of Heaven, the disciple par excellence, walks beside us, strengthening our resolve. Passed through her hands, our burdens are met with grace, our steps with newfound courage.
For the love of Christ, we are still prepared to suffer more.
Reflection:
Steadfast Protectress, who met your Son on His way to Calvary, help me bear the burdens of my cross with courage and love, knowing that I am never alone in my suffering.
LITTLE LITANY:
For those carrying heavy crosses— the sick, the grieving, the depressed, and the lonely.
For caregivers, especially parents of suffering children, and those who stand by the loved ones in their trials.
(Lord Have Mercy) x2
WORD FROM THE SAINTS:
“The Most Holy Mother of God prays for us ceaselessly. She is always visiting us. Whenever we turn to her in our heart, she is there. After the Lord, she is the greatest protection for mankind. How many churches there are in the world that are dedicated to the Most Holy Mother of God! How many healing springs where people are cured of their ailments have sprung up in places where the Most Holy Theotokos appeared and blessed those springs to heal both the sick and the healthy! She is constantly, by our side, and all too often we forget her.”
“Everyone has a cross to carry. Why? Since the leader of our faith endured the cross, we will also endure it. On one hand, the cross is sweet and light, but, on the other, it can also be bitter and heavy. It depends on our will. If you bear Christ’s cross with love then it will be very light; like a sponge or a cork. But if you have a negative attitude, it becomes heavy; too heavy to lift.”
HJ Sandigo is a vagabond chronicler, originally from Placerville, California. His stories, like all the world's stories, are a response to John 1:14, 'The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.' You can read more about the author here.
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