Years ago, I was called to the hospital for a woman in critical condition. Her son, a grown man in his forties, stood beside her bed weeping silently. He had always been the strong one, the no-nonsense, keep-it-together type. But now, seeing his mother barely able to speak, all that strength melted into grief. When she realized he was crying, she didn’t say much. She simply reached for his hand and said, “Shh… I’m still here.” That moment of motherly presence, even in her weakness, reminds me of another scene, on a hill called Calvary.
Silent, Steadfast, Surrendering
From the wood of the Cross, through broken breath and unimaginable pain, Jesus looks down and says, “Woman, behold your son… Son, behold your mother.” And in that one sacred exchange, He gives Mary to John, and to all of us. Mary becomes not just the mother of John, but the Mother of the Church.
It’s an odd place to assign motherhood, isn’t it? Not at a birthday party or a baptism. But at Calvary. In agony. In the darkness. In the Book of Genesis, Eve is called the “mother of all the living.” But at the foot of the Cross, Mary becomes the mother of the redeemed humanity. A new Eve, born not from the side of Adam, but from the pierced side of Christ. When that soldier thrust his lance into Jesus’ side and blood and water flowed out, it wasn’t just a wound, it was a birth. The Church was born there, through suffering, through mercy, through love.
And Mary, standing there, in that suffering of her son, she didn’t run. She didn’t faint. She stood. Think about that. A mother watching her innocent son suffer brutally, and still she stands. Silent, steadfast, surrendering. Not because she understood everything, but because she trusted Someone.
The Maternal Heart of Mary
There’s a story about a young nurse working in a war hospital during a violent conflict. One night, during an air raid, as sirens wailed and the building trembled, she found herself alone in a dim hallway with a wounded soldier who had just come out of surgery. He was conscious but trembling. She knelt beside him, held his hand, and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” Later, when asked how she stayed so calm, she said, “I wasn’t calm. But I knew he didn’t need answers. He just needed someone to stay.”
Mary is that for the Church. The Church is still being born through suffering, through conflict, misunderstanding, scandal, and brokenness. And yet, the maternal heart of Mary still beats at its center. A mother who doesn’t solve every crisis with a speech, but who stands beside us, through every storm, reminding us we are not abandoned.
Jesus calls her “Woman.” It sounds distant, almost cold, especially from a dying son. But it’s the same word used at Cana: “Woman, what concern is that to me?” In both places, Cana and Calvary, Jesus is doing more than addressing Mary. He is revealing her. At Cana, she initiates His mission. At Calvary, she fulfills it. She is the woman who listens, who intercedes, who births the Church in silence and sorrow. She is not only the Mother of God, she is our mother. Yours and mine.
Receive Her Anew
So, on this day, the Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church, I invite you to receive her anew. She won’t overwhelm you. She won’t force herself into your life. She will simply stand by her presence until you notice her. Until you rest, not just in her presence, but in her love. And then, like John, take her into your home.
- Today’s Readings
- Father Boby's inspirational homily was recorded live during Mass at the Father Peyton Center this morning. You can view the Mass (and the Rosary at the 30-minute mark) on the Family Rosary YouTube page.
- To join the Rosary and Mass Livestream, visit the Family Rosary YouTube or Facebook page at 11:30 a.m. Eastern, Monday – Friday. Consider inviting others to join too! (*If you are not a member of Facebook and a signup window appears, simply select the X at the top of the pop-up message and continue to the livestream.)
