In her, we recognize the model of the Church’s faith and of our own.
We shall always look on her as our mother.
In the joys and sorrows of our missionary life, we feel close to her who is the Mother of Mercy.
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I don’t think of Mary so much on Holy Saturday. I think of her on Good Friday standing at the foot of the cross as Jesus died. Focusing on the Pieta I think of her holding her son as they prepared to lay him in the tomb.
Today there is a heaviness as we wait for the Resurrection that will come, that has already come and still we wait.. But for Mary who did not know that her son would rise on the third day… she would not have had the distractions that we use to get past the heaviness, waiting for the Vigil that we will enter into tonight; for the new fire, the light pushing back the darkness and the joy… The joy as we will sing in triumph.
I think of Mary waiting with those in line to cross over the border from Ukraine into Poland, holding their children close so as not to become separated from them. Mary, sharing in their fear, their weariness, their hunger, and even their hope that they will find safety for their children.
I think of the many mothers who waited for their children to come home from the indian residential schools; who waited and are still waiting to hear what happened to them, needed to know why they waited in vain to hug their children…
I find myself reflecting on her – Mother of Mercy. And I remember how before he died, Jesus gave her to us. She who stood at the foot of the cross on which Jesus hung. Our crucified Saviour who is mercy, forgiveness and compassion. Mary is the mother of mercy.
Yesterday at the end of our Good Friday service I went up to hug a friend, to remind them that in spite of their pain and struggle how loved they are, how beautiful they are, how courageous and strong they are. And my friend’s mother came up with tears running down her face, silently thanking me for loving her child, gathering us both into a hug. Her name was not Mary but it is her face that I see this morning as sit in this place, waiting…
“We shall always look on her as our mother.”