The Healing Journey

April 3, 2026

The Blessed Virgin occupies a special place in the Passion narratives. Throughout Jesus’ life, she celebrated his joys and endured his sorrows, and in the end, she witnessed the death of her son as she stood at the foot of the cross. The agony she endured is echoed in the 13th century Latin hymn Stabat Mater, which begins: “At the cross her station keeping, stood the mournful mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last…” “Stabat Mater” is translated to “the mother was standing” or “the sorrowful mother stood.”

Pope Benedict XVI, in his book “Jesus of Nazareth,” wrote of the defining moment when Jesus gave his mother to John and the Church: “When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing near, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, behold your son!’ Then, he said to the disciple, ‘Behold your mother!’”

“This is one of Jesus’ final acts, an adoption arrangement, as it were,” Benedict said. “The early Church had no difficulty recognizing in the Woman, on the one hand, Mary herself, and, on the other hand, transcending time, the Church, bride and mother, in which the mystery of Mary spreads out into history.”

On this Good Friday, we urge you to listen to “Stabat Mater,” click here: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZprSwDeckKo)

The Stabat Mater

At the cross her station keeping
stood the mournful Mother weeping,
close to Jesus to the last.

Through her heart, His sorrow sharing,
all His bitter anguish bearing
now at length the sword had passed.

Oh, how sad and sore distressed
was that Mother highly blessed,
of the sole-begotten One!

Christ above in torment hangs,
she beneath beholds the pangs
of her dying, glorious Son.

Is there one who would not weep,
whelmed in miseries so deep,
Christ’s dear Mother to behold?

Can the human heart refrain
from partaking in her pain,
in that Mother’s pain untold?

Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled,
she beheld her tender Child
all with bloody scourges rent.

For the sins of His own nation,
saw Him hang in desolation,
till His spirit forth He sent.

O sweet Mother! fount of love!
Touch my spirit from above,
make my heart with thine accord.

Make me feel as thou hast felt;
make my soul to glow and melt
with the love of Christ, my Lord.

Holy Mother! pierce me through,

in my heart each wound renew
of my Savior crucified.

Let me share with thee His pain,
who for all our sins was slain,
who for me in torments died.

Let me mingle tears with thee,
mourning Him who mourned for me,
all the days that I may live.

By the Cross with thee to stay,
there with thee to weep and pray,
is all I ask of thee to give.

Virgin of all virgins blest!,
Listen to my fond request:
let me share thy grief divine;

Let me, to my latest breath,
in my body bear the death
of that dying Son of thine.

Wounded with His every wound,
steep my soul till it hath swooned,

in His very Blood away;

Be to me, O Virgin, nigh,
lest in flames I burn and die,
i
n His awful Judgment Day.

Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence,
be Thy Mother my defense,
be Thy Cross my victory;

While my body here decays,

may my soul Thy goodness praise,
safe in paradise with Thee. Amen

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