There is a beautiful portrait hanging in the Dallas Museum of Art entitled, “Pietà,” painted in 1876 by William-Adolphe Bouguereau. As the title suggests, it is the image of Mary holding the lifeless body of Christ immediately after His crucifixion. One can imagine the grieving, heart-wrenching sorrow of any mother who has just lost a child—crying out, looking upon her firstborn’s beautiful face, kissing it over and over in these final moments that she would ever hold her child again.
But in Bouguereau’s depiction, Mary is not looking down upon the face of her Son in tender sorrow. Her sorrowful eyes are looking at us, the viewers beholding the scene. Her eyes almost say to us, “See what I endure for you.”
Mary does not look upon us with anger or blame. There is a countenance about Mary’s face that one would not quite call “peace,” but also not overcome by shock or hysteria—as we would expect of any mother who had witnessed a traumatic and horrifying torment inflicted upon her own child. Rather, Mary’s facial expression is one of…acceptance. She endures her unimaginable pain without resentment or repugnance, but rather, willingly.
Her sorrow is offered for us. For love of us. Her eyes beckon us to look back upon the scene so that we can know how much we are loved. We are loved to the point of death.
I will never be able to explain why God resolves quickly some of our heart-wrenching prayers that beg Him for help, while others, He does not. But our Faith tells us that He does indeed resolve them all, in His way and in His time.
For mothers who have experienced the loss of their own child, undoubtedly, this is not something they ever get “over.” Not even Mary, who accepted the eternal purpose of her Son’s sacrifice in the plan of salvation, ever got over His death—in a sense, not even when He was raised three days later. Certainly, that Easter morning, Mary’s joy would have been “complete,” but in her humanity, it is inconceivable that she would have re-lived again and again the horror of what she had endured and witnessed, replaying the details in her mind for the rest of her life.
And yet, when it comes to Jesus’ Passion, Crucifixion, and death, there is something about “replaying” His suffering that, rather than lead us to despondency and despair, has precisely the opposite effect: it sanctifies us. In fact, the Church encourages us to meditate upon the sufferings of Christ frequently, and in a particular way, during the forty days of Lent. Why? Because while entering into Christ’s Passion is indeed a hard exercise to engage in (nobody likes to think about suffering, after all), when we share in Jesus’ suffering, we partake also in His love, to a greater degree and in proportion to our willingness to carry His Cross with Him.
It is not that He loves us “more” when we meditate on His Passion; it is that our hearts become more open to receiving His love. And there is nothing, nothing, nothing in this world that can fill our hearts with any greater peace and joy than the love of Christ.
In those times in which our loss has been very great, our suffering unimaginable, and we cry out in pain from the depths of our hearts, it is understandable that it will be extremely difficult to comprehend how God could possibly love us when He did not grant us the miracle we had asked Him for. Why would God allow us a suffering beyond our strength? It is then that we must strive to see our circumstances not from our human, finite perspective, but rather, as Mary did, from the perspective of eternity.
This is the perspective that will give us the courage to unite our cross to that of the Lord, to teach us that there is no greater path to love than to be willing to sacrifice, to suffer for His sake, and to lay down our lives for others, that they themselves might live eternally. In doing so, Jesus will restore us in His peace, as He did for Mary. He will fill our hearts with His deep, abiding, all-encompassing love.
Wait on God, with patience, cling to him, forsake him not; thus will you be wise in all your ways. Accept whatever befalls you, when sorrowful, be steadfast, and in crushing misfortune be patient; For in fire gold and silver are tested, and worthy people in the crucible of humiliation. Trust God and God will help you; trust in him, and he will direct your way…You who fear the LORD, love him, and your hearts will be enlightened. (Sir. 2:2-9)
Author’s Note: Excerpt from: 26 Steps With the Mother of God: A Treatise on the Life of Mary: Holbrook, M.C.: 9798272524393: Amazon.com: Books.
Image from Wikimedia Commons
