Mary at the foot of the cross

I would have been 22 years dead last March 19. When I was yet a first grader, I figured in a motorcycle mishap, which left me fatally wounded and totally unconscious. I could picture myself, as though dead, in the middle of the highway. My mother must have been hysterical and cried a river over my fate, and hers. My father, who was about a couple of hundred meters away, must have sensed that something was wrong with his family, and ran like a meteor to where he almost lost his only son. The left portion of my skull was bashed in, and three blankets could barely help reduce the bleeding. They knew my situation was very precarious and that they could lose me any moment.

But by God’s singular graciousness, I survived what my father and my mother might count as the hardest blow in their life as parents. For two or three days, I was like down for the count. When I regained consciousness, my body both sore and numb, I was being carried along a corridor by my father. I could see my mother, who was a couple of meters behind, and all the sorrow and the pain on her face. From hindsight, I could say that she looked and walked as though she were a mater dolorosa following her son. Of course, figuratively speaking, it was not yet her time to see her son to his Calvary and reenact the pieta.

That must have been how the Blessed Mother had felt, and much more. Already almost immediately after the Blessed Mother had given birth to her child, she learned the bare truth about the dreadful destiny of her son and that her heart would be pierced by the sword. It must have taken time for the prophecy of Simeon about the sorrows to come to sink in her. But certainly she came to realize that accepting that prophecy was fundamental or central to the fiat, to that “yes” she professed at the Annunciation. Given this, it is not amiss to claim that in some sense the passion of the Blessed Mother already began at Jesus’ birth. Isn’t it true that the anticipation of some horrifying event is more dreadful than that event itself? The expectation of death, for example, would be more terrifying than the experience of death itself. Naturally, thinking about the future brought much misery and pain to the Blessed Mother in regard to her son.

As teacher, the Blessed Mother exemplified in her life how graceful dealing with suffering and pain can be beneficial to our Christian discipleship. I would think, the Blessed Mother carried that misery, that pain, from her child’s birth unto the foot of his cross. Look, not long after the prophet Simeon told her of what was coming, she, together with St. Joseph, had to protect their child from the deadly hands of Herod, and so they had to run to Egypt for safety. Consider, too, the hysteria losing her child in the temple must have caused. And when her child, now grown-up, returned home after being away doing great things every high and low in support of his battle cry that the Kingdom of God was at hand, he was rejected. I wonder how she must have felt on hearing this, and the news that their townmates even wanted to push him over the cliff to have him killed. And what could be more painful than seeing her son, carrying that heavy cross towards Calvary, his face like a workshop of blood, of sweat and of derisive saliva? But she patiently endured everything unto the foot of the cross. This was her martyrdom.

Don’t we call the Blessed Mother the “Queen of Martyrs”? Indeed, she is. To be a martyr, the Blessed Mother did not have to submit herself to an executioner’s sword. But she did suffer, in the words of St. Bernard, a most bitter sorrow of the heart. This she endured in obedience to God’s will. And if not a moment in her whole life did she break loose from her original fiat, then she endured her martyrdom throughout her life. Her standing at the foot of the cross testified to her total submission to the will of God, in whose love and faithfulness she trusted so much.

Sorrow is an inseparable reality in our earthly life. It is the consequence of the ills that befall us either from within or without. When we lose a loved one, when we fail the bar or board exam, when malicious tongues destroy our good name, when the people we expect to understand us do not seem to care, we suffer outwardly. My mother has had a big share in this. When we are humiliated, when we are tempted, when we think we have caused God pain by sinning, we experience interior suffering. And when we suffer and are down with sorrow, there is the temptation to think that after all God is not infinitely good and loving. But God never intended that we experience pain and undergo hardships. The truth is, He wanted us to be happy. By one man’s disobedience, everything crumbled, and happiness was turned into sorrow. By the Blessed Mother’s obedience as well as, and more importantly, her son’s obedience, happiness is man’s once more. The Blessed Mother’s obedient disposition teaches every Christian soul how to deal with suffering and sorrow.

We should be on guard against the many false ideas about suffering. Many of us might erroneously think that Christianity exalts suffering for its own sake. Our Father in heaven, who loves us so much, does not rejoice to see his children suffer. But if, in fact, we do suffer, we must use our suffering as a means of virtue, to turn evil into good, to accept pain as an atonement offered for the Body of the Son of the Blessed Mother. Suffering is not good in itself; it is indifferent. It can prove to be either a blessing or a curse. It can do or undo a person. What makes suffering good or evil is our attitude towards it. The Blessed Mother valued her own passion as participation in the suffering of her son. She, who kept everything in her heart, perceived God as visiting her through her every cross. And she was purified and refined by the sorrows she patiently endured for the love of God.

As mother, the Blessed Virgin stood by her son the Lord Jesus to the bitter end. The blessed Mother stood near the cross. We do not know how near but we can be sure she stood as near as the soldiers would let her. She might not have been able to touch or caress her son or wipe his bloody face, but she could stand where he could see her and take comfort from her presence and her encouraging and understanding looks. From her fiat at the Annunciation to her fiat at the foot of the cross, she was in solidarity with Jesus and his mission. Isn’t this how mothers – and fathers – should stand by their children? The Blessed Mother was silent all throughout the passion; not a word issued from her lips. In like manner, there are times when all that parents can do is to stand in comforting presence when their child is on his or her times of sorrow, pain or tragic news. It may be all they can do but it may be the best they can do when words do not come or are empty.

The Blessed Virgin is our teacher and our mother. This Lady of sorrows is our mother. And so we can be sure that we are not alone in our sufferings, in our moments of sorrow. She, who endured much suffering, would understand us and intercede for us before her son, who suffered much for the salvation of the world. (July, 2004, inspired by Terence Cardinal Cooke)