"That, out of many hearts, thoughts may be revealed."

By Cameron Ryan

“That, out of many hearts, thoughts may be revealed.”

Fr Joseph Carola posed a bold question to many of us recently. “Have you suffered enough?”

Naturally, any suffering feels like enough. It is not to be desired, and we are called to alleviate it where we see it in the world each day.

But, as Fr Carola pointed out, the world in which we live is plainly not at peace. It is a world riven with grief. Broken, insecure, and unsure of how to reassemble itself. It is a world standing in the shadow of Christ on the Cross, often without realising it.

The pervasiveness of suffering is evident enough in the world, but never in history has it been more clearly manifest than on Good Friday at Calvary.
Our Lord – God incarnate – was not above suffering a torturous death.
Our Lady – model of the Beatitudes – was not above suffering grievous sorrows. “The sun rises on the evil and on the good; rain falls on the just and the unjust”.

It isn’t difficult to stand by someone’s pain, but to stand with it involves heartfelt compassion. How do we learn to suffer with another, and to make their suffering our own?

We look to the example of blessed Mary.
We look to her who excelled in every virtue,
Who was steadfast in self-denial,
Who was perfect in obedience,
Who was pure in lifelong chastity,
Who cradled the incarnate Lord in the humility of the manger,
And bore Him in the humility of his death.
And at the Cross, from which most of the disciples fled, there she stood.

And so intimately united to his suffering she was, that as the lance pierced his heart, that sword of bitter sorrow pierced hers as well.

From His birth, our Lord was foretold to cause the rise and fall of many – that out of many hearts, thoughts will be revealed.
What greater lightning bolt is there to reveal our hearts, our true inmost disposition, than the Cross?

There is the cross of external obligations: the call to do corporal works of mercy, or the daily demands of our studies, and seminary programme.
But what about the Cross in our hearts: the cross of interior imitation of the Lord? The cross of being firm with ourselves, so that we may be generous with God?

For our Christian charity and compassion to radiate externally for others to see, we must continually make sure that it abides deeply within us, where only God can see.

Will the hireling suffer for his sheep? Externally, he looks like any other shepherd, but does the welfare of the sheep bear weight in his heart?
How can we sincerely suffer with the suffering? Stand with the sorrows of our Lady and unite ourselves to the cross as she did?

When we couple our prayers with fasting and small penances, we do so in solidarity with those who are suffering, and we stand side by side with Our Lady at the foot of the cross.

When we embrace the ups and downs of our daily lives without complaint, we are following in Our Lady’s footsteps.

Let us take this feast as our encouragement: through regular acts of self-denial in small things, let us purify ourselves of any indifference, lukewarmness, or mediocrity in our faith.
May the Cross never become something vague or unfamiliar to us, but let us keep ourselves spiritually fit, and sharp: ready instruments in God’s hands.

Dear Mother of Sorrows: by your afflicted heart, pray for our increase in the virtue of humility.
Pray that we may be united to the Cross, as you were.
And like St John, may we make and keep a place for you, in our hearts.

Blessed Mother: pray for us, and with us, for all of our intentions.

IMAGE: Girolamo Romanino, “Presentation of Jesus at the Temple”.