Monday, July 18, 2011


I've told you how I've felt about Mary at various times.  I suppose it's not that hard to guess that I have also had a hard time with the rosary as well.  To be honest, it was partly because it either bored me, or I didn't feel like I paid enough attention to make it worthwhile to pray it.  Still, it's growing on me a little.  For example, I loved the way one priest explained it.  He said that the Bible is something that we should hold onto, read, keep within our hearts.  And when we couldn't physically read the Bible, we could pray the rosary.  I'm starting to love that aspect of the rosary; the way that it highlights different aspects of Jesus' life.

About the time that I graduated college, the Luminous Mysteries came out.  Now those were some Mysteries that I loved.  I loved to think about Jesus' baptism, and our call to live out the fullness of the baptism that we have received.  I loved to think about the marriage feast of Cana, and I would pray for those that were married and were called to marriage that they would be able to spread the wine of God's love to the world.  I loved to think about Jesus' proclamation of the coming of the kingdom of God and what we could do to spread that kingdom.  And I especially loved thinking about the institution of the holy Eucharist and what that meant in my life.

Slowly, so that I didn't even realize it, the Luminous Mysteries started to fade out of such a singular place in my life.  About 5 years ago, I started to notice more of the Sorrowful Mysteries.  I learned something of the carrying of the cross.  I had to learn to accept my cross in new ways.  It was a much heavier load than I expected.  My carrying of it was a lot less smooth and graceful than I thought it would be.  I had imagined I would be strong carrying a cross; I didn't realize I would be so weak, would fall so many times, or would need so much help.

About 3 years ago, I started to notice the meaning of the agony on the garden.  To be alone, to be crying out, to have God not take anything away, and to have people falling asleep on you.  It's quite the thing to be in such pain over something and to have the people that you would normally turn to be the very people that you can't talk to for various reasons. Part of the reason that you can't talk to them is because there is something about that time that you have to walk alone.  I guess I don't know how to explain it better than that.

About a year ago, I connected with the scourging at the pillar.  To be hit, blow after blow, and it's just draining.  You can't do anything to stop it.  You can't do anything to keep the life from seeping out.  It just hurts and there's not much to do but try to survive.

In the last 6 months, it's been the crucifixion and death.  A numbness that left me crying out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

It makes me realize that even if I can never fully understand what Jesus has been through, He knows exactly what I have been through.  

I still don't claim to pray the rosary well or faithfully, but I do appreciate it more.  

There is something else that I recently realized; after the Sorrowful Mysteries come the Glorious, and those begin with resurrection and new life.  Hopefully soon.


  1. I love this. I'm sorry for your sorrows but how wonderful to find some meaning in them. And what better way than walking with our Blessed Mother to the foot of The Cross.

  2. Maybe "wonderful" wasn't the right word....perhaps "Blessing" would have been better.

  3. I love your final reflection - I was thinking that very same thing as I read through - that the story doesn't end on the cross, but rather with resurrection.

    I've found praying the rosary in a group helps me to stay focused on the mystery better than just by myself.

  4. Wow...after the sorrowful come the glorious. Love this.

  5. Isn't it funny how, during different stages of our lives, different mysteries seem to have more meaning to us?
    Have you ever read any of Scott Hahn's books? He has one (Hail Holy Queen) that defends our beliefs in Mary. He's an incredibly intelligent, personable man.