knowledge through the Rosary
Mary lived with her eyes fixed on Christ, treasuring his every word: “She kept all these things, pondering them in her heart”. The memories of Jesus, impressed upon her heart, were always with her, leading her to reflect on the various moments of her life at her Son’s side. In a way those memories were to be the “rosary” which she recited uninterruptedly throughout her earthly life.
Pope St. John Paul II, Rosarium Virginis Mariae
About a year into my Catholic inquiry, in a moment of fervor, I google’d “how to pray the Rosary” and printed out instructions, all the while glancing furtively to the doorway of the office, hoping my parents wouldn’t find me with this verboten literature. But these thrilling moments would pass, and I would be back at square-one, uncomfortable with Mary. Every time I looked upon an image of Mary or even thought about her, I was physically uncomfortable.
There were times I was genuinely frustrated with myself because I knew it was strange to be afraid of someone so obviously good. Even if I didn’t grow to love her, couldn’t I at least respect her? Only through my teeth could I acknowledge her importance. My head had submitted to the Marian dogmas, but my heart was lagging behind.
By my senior year of high school, I had decided I would be Catholic when the time was right. I was in an unofficial catechumenate phase of penitence and prayer. The Rosary still made my skin crawl. So during Lent I resolved to say it once a day, usually in the morning while I drove to school via daily Mass, half-expecting to burst into flames from the wrath of God, and thereby resolve to turn from my sinful pseudo-Catholic ways.
I did not burst into flames. (Though I almost got in a car accident when my rosary caught on my signal-turner and burst, beads flying everywhere. As it turns out, it is not necessary to hold your rosary while driving.) Nor did Mary appear to me and say, “Thank you, daughter, for finally praying my rosary.” It was more like a quiet, still grace that continued to pervade my life during a really, really difficult time.
My Lenten practice did not continue. I prayed the Rosary sporadically for the next… well, up until now, to be honest. We’re not one of those families that prays a rosary every night, except during the month of October, the month of the rosary. But now, during this period of the 33-day consecration, I’m asked to pray a rosary daily.
What has made a difference for me this time, though, is that I have recently read two spiritual writers who speak of Mary in a language I can understand. English writer Caryll Houselander’s Reed of God describes how Mary is an open and willing vessel to God’s divine will. She describes moments in Mary’s life and offers her insight into Mary’s heart, while also applying each situation to modern times and situations. Swiss writer Adrienne von Speyr’s work Handmaid of the Lord beautifully and poetically describes her own contemplation of Mary’s interior life. Both of these works have made Mary more real to me, more like a real woman, wife, and mother. With Houselander and Speyr’s descriptions, the mysteries of the Rosary enter my heart in a deeper way than before.
Below is one excerpt from each book.
A contemplation for the mystery, “Finding Jesus in the Temple”:
Why did Christ treat Our Lady this way?
It was not to show His absolute trust in her or her trust in Him (although she was the one human being to whom God’s will was completely unhindered). It was because Our Lady lived the life of all humanity. Concentrated into her tiny history is the life story of the whole human race, the whole relationship of the redeemed human race with God… Naturally, then, she experienced this loss of the Child because it is an experience which we all have to go through, that our love may be sifted and purified.
Reed of God, Caryll Houselander
A contemplation for the mystery, “The Crucifixion”:
Whoever says Yes to a child consents to that little being’s whole future work and fruitfulness, which extends into the unforeseeable… [Mary] hears what [Jesus] says to the thief- that this word contains a promise and that he, although in the midst of dying, does not cease to make promises, because nothing, not even death, not even forsakenness, can violate his mission. Thus he promises no less on the Cross than he would promise as God in heaven: namely, Paradise together with him. His promises, therefore, are not dependent upon his present condition. His word is valid with a divine impartiality, however he may be faring as a man. Everything around him and in him is falling apart; only his mission remains intact. He cannot see the thief without letting this mission become effective for him. The mother can draw on this and realize that her own mission- namely to say Yes to everything that God intends for her- is uninfluenced by her sorrow and her inclusion in the Son’s night.
Handmaid of the Lord, Adrienne von Speyr