In recent years I have taken to daily reciting of the Rosary - or, at least, that is my intention if not always the reality.

Growing up in a large Catholic family, I can not remember praying the Rosary together. Indeed, with the exception of a single Hail Mary, our prayers were very Christ-centric as Dad, our faith champion, called all seven of his children to their knees every evening in our living room.  And it is only since becoming a mother that I have really turned my attention to Mary. 

Within the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary, the fruit of the Wedding at Cana mystery is ‘To Jesus through Mary’. This strikes me as an extraordinarily powerful invitation. Having assented to God’s will that she become the Mother of Christ - “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done unto me according to thy word.” (Luke 1:38) - Mary thus not only brings our saviour into the world and raises him, she knows instinctively when to encourage him to begin his ministry  and perform his first miracle of turning water into wine. She then accompanies him throughout that ministry and is with him at the foot of the cross as he dies in agony.

As Mary “pondered… in her heart”, (Luke 2:19)  so too have I, as a mother, pondered that scene of Mary at the foot of her son’s cross.  Perhaps Mary’s grief is nowhere better captured than in Michelangelo’s exquisite Pietà, the marble sculpture that resides in St Peter’s, Rome. I have seen this sculpture up close several times, and each time I have gazed in silent and humble awe. However, and as strange as it may seem, when I look at Mary, bereft, paralyzed with grief, cradling her adult son - I do not see death. Rather, emanating from the heartbreaking postures and the flowing, dishevelled robes of the Madonna and Christ, I see the essence of life. Indeed the Pietà is a reminder of what really matters in life - the relational bonds that bind us and the love that sustains us, even in the dark depths of suffering and grief. As a mother, it is this ‘say yes to life even though you will suffer’ courage of Mary that provides inspiration for my own approach to the suffering I accompany in those I love. 

As the Rosary draws to a close, I always anticipate the final breathtaking plea to Mary to act as advocate, to truly understand my heartache and to present my prayers to Jesus with all her tender motherly love and wisdom; Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy! our life, our sweetness, and our hope! To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve; to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn, then, most gracious Advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us; and after this our exile show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus; O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary. Pray for us, O holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

To Jesus through Mary.