Practical Application 

How do we carry the fruits of this reflection into our daily lives? 

1. Trust in God’s Plan – Jesus surrendered completely to the Father’s will. We are called to do the same, trusting that God is working in all things, even in suffering.
2. Embrace the Cross with Love – The difficulties we face—whether in family, work, or health—are opportunities to unite ourselves with Christ. We can say with Him, “Not my will, but yours be done” (Luke 22:42).
3. Live in the Hope of the Resurrection – Our faith does not end at the Cross. When we face hardship, we should remember that God’s love always leads to new life.
4. Stay Close to Mary – Just as she stood by Jesus, Mary stands by us. We can turn to her, especially in moments of trial, knowing that she always leads us to her Son.

Testimony: St. Paul of the Cross 

St. Paul of the Cross (1694–1775) dedicated his life to preaching the Passion of Christ, believing that meditating on Jesus’ suffering was the key to a deeper love of God. He founded the Passionist Congregation, a religious order devoted to spreading devotion to the Passion, helping people see in Christ’s suffering the greatest expression of divine love. His mission was not to focus on suffering for its own sake but to show how the Cross leads to resurrection and renewal. 

Paul himself endured great trials, facing opposition, rejection, and spiritual darkness. Yet, he never lost faith. In his writings, he encouraged others to turn to the crucifix for strength, saying, “When you are alone in your room, take your crucifix, kiss its five wounds reverently, tell it to preach to you a little sermon, and then listen to the words of eternal life that it speaks to your heart.” 

Like Mary at the foot of the Cross, Paul did not avoid suffering but embraced it as a path to union with Christ. His life teaches us that when we carry our crosses with faith and love, they become sources of grace, leading us to the hope of the Resurrection. 

1. Embrace Trials with Faith- Suffering is a reality of life, but our faith transforms how we endure it. Instead of seeing hardships as punishments, we can see them as opportunities for grace. The next time we face difficulty, we can pause and pray,  “Jesus, help me carry this cross with You.”
2. Trust in God's Timing - Patience means trusting that God’s plan is unfolding, even when we cannot see it. When we feel tempted to give up, we can remember that Jesus did not give up, even when His journey was painful. Our suffering, when united to His, is never wasted.
3. Help Others Carry Their Crosses - Just as Simon of Cyrene helped Jesus, we are called to help others in their struggles. This could be as simple as offering a kind word to someone who is hurting, being patient with a difficult family member, or serving those in need. Our small acts of love lighten the burdens of others.
4. Cultivate a Spirit of Gratitude - Patience is strengthened by gratitude. Even in suffering, there is always something to be thankful for. Keeping a gratitude journal or taking time each day to thank God for His blessings helps us endure trials with a hopeful heart.

Testimony: St. Catherine of Siena

How can we live out the mystery of the Scourging at the Pillar in our daily lives?

1. Practice Self-Discipline in Small Things - True mortification begins with everyday choices. Choosing to fast from a favorite treat, waking up earlier for prayer, or resisting unnecessary distractions helps strengthen our will. By saying no to ourselves in small things, we prepare to say no to sin in bigger battles.

2. Embrace Suffering with Love - We all face suffering—physical pain, disappointments, or struggles with sin. Instead of complaining or avoiding them, we can offer them to Jesus. Like Him, we can endure suffering for the love of God and others, transforming pain into a source of grace.

3. Control Over Our Speech and Thoughts - One of the hardest forms of self-discipline is control over our words and thoughts. Choosing silence instead of gossip, patience instead of anger, or kindness instead of criticism are real forms of mortification. Jesus remained silent during His Passion, accepting suffering without resentment. We can strive to do the same.

4. Fasting and Simplicity - Jesus said, "When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites." (Matthew 6:16). Fasting is not just about food—it can include giving up social media, unnecessary spending, or excessive entertainment. By simplifying our lives, we make room for God.

How can we cultivate moral courage in our daily lives?

1. Stand for Truth, Even When It's Unpopular - In a world where truth is often distorted, we are called to be witnesses of Christ. This may mean standing up for our faith in conversations with friends, refusing to compromise our values at work, or defending those who are marginalized. When we feel the pressure to conform, we can remember Jesus, crowned with thorns, who endured mockery for our sake.
2. Embrace Humiliation with Humility - No one likes to be mocked or misunderstood. But when we experience rejection, we can unite it with Christ’s suffering. He, who deserved all honor, accepted disgrace for love of us. When we face criticism, we can ask, "Am I willing to endure this for the sake of the Gospel?"
3. Pray for Strength in Difficult Moments - When we feel afraid to stand up for our beliefs, we can turn to prayer. The Holy Spirit gives courage to those who ask. As St. Paul writes, "God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and self-control." (2 Timothy 1:7).
4. Support Other Who Face Persecution - Many Christians around the world suffer for their faith. By praying for them, advocating for religious freedom, and offering encouragement to those facing difficulties, we strengthen the Body of Christ.

My mother was sick most of her life.  When I was fourteen, she died. It was hard for my sister and me to make sense of it.  Relatives and family friends tried to console us. They said things like God wanted her to be with Him, and my assumption was, and not with me.  As I got older, I began to wonder what kind of God takes a mother away from her children!  

A powerful witness to the mystery of the Scourging at the Pillar is St. Gemma Galgani, an Italian mystic known for her deep love for Christ’s Passion. Born in 1878, Gemma was blessed with extraordinary spiritual gifts, including visions of Jesus and the stigmata. Yet, what made her truly remarkable was her willingness to embrace suffering out of love.

From a young age, Gemma experienced severe physical pain, suffering from spinal meningitis and other illnesses. Doctors saw no hope for her recovery, yet she accepted her suffering with peace. She once wrote, "If I saw the gates of heaven open and knew I could enter by one little act of suffering, I would not hesitate to suffer a thousand pains for Jesus."

Her devotion to Jesus’ Passion was so intense that she often relived His sufferings in mystical experiences. On many occasions, she felt the lashes of Christ’s scourging on her own body, yet she never complained. Instead, she saw suffering as a way to unite herself to her beloved Savior.

One night, during a Holy Hour, she experienced a vision of Jesus after the scourging. He was covered in wounds, yet His eyes were filled with love. She heard Him say, "Gemma, do you want to comfort Me?" Overcome with love, she responded, "Yes, my Jesus, let me suffer for You." From that moment on, she embraced suffering joyfully, offering everything for sinners and for the conversion of souls.

Gemma’s life teaches us that mortification is not about harsh penance—it is about love. She did not suffer for the sake of suffering, but to console Jesus. She reminds us that every sacrifice, no matter how small, can be an act of love when offered to God.

We had three children in college, one about to ride off into the sunset with her knight in shining armor, and the oldest was headed to Afghanistan as a Marine.  My husband was a candidate in formation and preparation for the Diaconate.  By the grace of God, it looked as if he was going to complete the program as well as the final steps toward ordination.   

Internally, I was a wreck and panicked that everyone could see through the façade. For years, we had lived through the financial pressures of sending five children to Catholic Schools, trying to feed them, pay the mortgage, and we were finally on the homestretch of the college years. We donated our time and talents to the parish.  This part of the journey had been survivable through prayer.  Prayer in times of weakness and vulnerability.  Prayer in times of gratitude for God’s generosity.   

This surrender was different.  Now I had to be visible.  Visibly supportive to my husband.  A visible partner in my role as a part of the Deacon couple in our parish and our diocese.  In my mind, this meant visibility and vulnerability.  In my heart it was a surrender to God’s will to accept this new aspect of providing support to my husband.  It turns out that it was and is a great deal more than I thought at the time.  Through that thought, I can relate to Mary, the mother of our Lord.  When she gave her Fiat, I am not certain that she knew the details of the joys, challenges, and sufferings that lay before her as the mother of our Lord.   

To meet the challenge of standing at our pillar of faith requires self-discipline.  Our Lord was strapped to a pillar and scourged with the most gruesome instrument of suffering at the time, a flagrum. Jesus, in his humanity, endured this suffering for us.  Surrendering to the will of his Father and enduring the suffering of the sins of humanity through self-discipline, and love for us and His Father. When reflecting on the fullness of the situation, our sufferings seem small.   

Not realizing it at the time, it was self-discipline that would help me to start down this new path.  I thought, “I am determined”.  The truth was and still is, I must stay the course and continue to surrender daily.  During this aspect of my life, self-discipline led me to daily recitation of a scriptural rosary.  At some point in the day, usually while walking our labradors, I found comfort and peace through the reflections and prayers of the rosary.  Through self-discipline, healthy habits and routines are developed.  Reflecting on the daily reading especially during Lent helps to remember the events in the life of Jesus.  It brings us closer to him.   

Self-discipline isn’t automatic and it isn’t easy.  Through practice and dedication, we can improve at turning away from those things that separate us from God. We need to accept that when we fail, Our Lord, forgives us and hands us the new opportunity. It may be difficult, but it is possible.   

As each new door of the unknown opens for me, the fear and anxiety rush through.  Next, comes a decision whether to succumb to fear or accept what God is asking. There is a choice, but self-discipline is the vehicle for choosing the road toward God.  When we push forward to stay the course, we do not walk alone.   

A powerful witness to the mystery of the Agony in the Garden is Servant of God Luisa Piccarreta, a mystic known as the "Little Daughter of the Divine Will." Born in 1865 in Italy, Luisa lived a life of profound suffering and mystical experiences. From a young age, she endured intense physical and spiritual trials, often bedridden and in deep union with Christ's Passion.

One of her most well-known works is The Hours of the Passion, where she meditates on each hour of Jesus’ suffering. She describes Jesus' agony in the garden as a moment when He saw every sin ever committed—and yet, His greatest sorrow came from the indifference of souls who would reject His love.

Despite her own sufferings, Luisa never despaired. Instead, she offered everything to Jesus, uniting her will to His. She understood that suffering, when embraced in love, could become redemptive. Through her mystical writings, she encourages us to see our trials not as punishments but as opportunities to console the heart of Christ.

Her life reminds us that true contrition is not just about avoiding sin, but about surrendering fully to God's will. Like Jesus in Gethsemane, we can pray, "Not my will, but yours be done."

How do we live out the mystery of the Agony of the Garden in our daily lives?

1. Cultivate a Habit of Contrition - At the end of each day, take time for an examination of conscience. Reflect honestly on your actions, words, and thoughts. Where have you failed to love? Where have you resisted God's will? A simple prayer, such as the Act of Contrition, can help keep our hearts soft and open to grace.

2. Frequent the Sacrament of Reconciliation - The Garden of Gethsemane calls us to confession. Jesus suffered for our sins so that we might be reconciled to the Father. The Sacrament of Reconciliation is a gift, not a burden. When we bring our sins to Christ in confession, He does not meet us with condemnation but with mercy.

3. Stay Awake with Jesus - In the garden, Jesus asked His disciples to keep watch, but they fell asleep. How often do we "fall asleep" spiritually—neglecting prayer, losing focus in our faith, or becoming indifferent to sin? Staying awake means committing to prayer, making time for God each day, and being vigilant against temptations that lead us away from Him.

4. Embrace Suffering as a Path to Holiness - Jesus did not run from suffering; He embraced it in love. We all have our own "Gethsemanes"—times of anxiety, hardship, and pain. Instead of asking "Why me?" we can ask, "How can I unite this to Jesus?" When we offer our sufferings to God, they become a source of grace, both for ourselves and for others.

As a single mother raising three children, living on the edge of poverty, fleeing a tumultuous marriage, my life was a constant swirl of need and trying to meet it. To do that, and to protect my children, I developed a tendency to control every detail of our lives. My calendar became our Bible. My children grew; we weathered life’s storms; we clung to each other. So when my youngest, my only daughter, hit teenage hood and rebelled – I became unhinged.  She was walking down a dangerous and unhealthy path, I screamed. She demanded to go live with someone who “would understand her.”  How could I let my baby, my daughter, this young woman just coming to understand her womanhood go live with – THAT MAN! The one who wrecked our family and sent my children into years of therapy?!  My Mother’s heart broke, I suffered greatly with the thought that I couldn’t give her what she, apparently, needed. It didn’t matter how much I had sacrificed to give her a good life, a stable family – she was rejecting me.  I tightened my grip – fought her, argued, cajoled, restricted.  Nothing worked.  Things got worse. It was destroying our relationship.  I was afraid of losing her to the darkness.  

That’s when I broke. Something in me whispered that I needed to let go. I needed to trust that God’s plan for her may just be different than mine.  Her rejection was painful, but my love was steadfast and that is what she needed to hear from me.  She needed to know that I would be there – no matter where her decisions brought her. She decided to leave and live with her father. I feared for her. I pleaded with God not to take her from me.  I wept.  I wept - deeply, profoundly, painfully. I repeated to myself that sometimes we can’t understand why God asks us to trust him in painful moments, but trust in him I must. 

My daughter is a beautiful young woman. She has returned to me to repair our relationship. She listens and values my opinion. She is finding her own path. She learned the truth about her father; she learned about life. Would she have become the young woman she is now if I hadn’t listened to that inner voice of the Holy Spirit to trust and give over to God what is his to decide? If I hadn’t drunk from the cup God presented to me? That decision taught me a lot about my need to control everything. It brought me closer to understanding the pain of unconditional love.  Whenever I read these lines – “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!” (Matt 23:37) I feel that pain all over again, just as our Lord did looking down over his flock, and as he did praying in Gethsemane. 

St. John Paul II was a man deeply devoted to the Rosary. From his youth in Poland, through the trials of World War II, and into his papacy, the Rosary was his refuge and strength. He once said, “The Rosary has accompanied me in moments of joy and in moments of difficulty. To it, I have entrusted any number of concerns; in it, I have always found comfort”.
 
One of the most moving examples of his perseverance was his response to suffering. In 1981, he was shot in an assassination attempt. As he recovered, he credited Our Lady of Fatima with saving his life, and he renewed his commitment to praying the Rosary daily. Even in his final years, as Parkinson’s disease weakened his body, he never stopped praying. The world watched as he bore his suffering with faith, uniting it to Christ.
 
Like Jesus in the Sorrowful Mysteries, St. John Paul II did not run from suffering—he embraced it with love. He teaches us that the Rosary is not just a prayer of words but a school of holiness. When we pray it, we are drawn into the life of Christ and transformed.

How can we make the Sorrowful Mysteries part of our spiritual lives?

The Powerful Effects of the Rosary—testimony by Don Smith
 
In the spring of 2007, I experienced my first Lent as an adult Catholic. I had recently returned to the Church after being a protestant minister for 20 years. I sincerely wanted this Lenten experienced to be deeply spiritual. I wanted it to change me. I needed God to change me. Over the years, I had developed habits I wanted to be free from, including a tendency to think negative, self-deprecating thoughts. I committed to praying the Rosary daily, and chose to focus on the Sorrowful mysteries, since it was Lent. I committed to praying it slowly, consciously, and thoughtfully, hoping the Lord would help me become the positive, hopeful, faith-filled person I wanted to be.
 
I’d never done a daily rosary before, so just making that commitment was a big deal. But I soon developed a routine of going for a walk each evening and praying. I walked a mile loop, spending 20 or 30 minutes every day thinking about what Jesus suffered out of his love for me. It was powerful. There was no day that it didn’t have an effect on me. There was always something from Gethsemane, or his scourging, the crowning with thorns or his carrying of the cross - the crucifixion itself - that moved me profoundly. Sometimes I was totally overwhelmed by the ideas and images. Other times, I knew that he was actually showing me the path to life… by dying to self. And then there were days I came to it struggling deeply, and during my meditation I realized that Jesus knew exactly what I was suffering, was sharing it with me. In essence, we were sharing each other’s pain. It was life changing. I found fellowship with him that I had never experienced as a protestant.
 
Now its 2025, and after working in Catholic ministry for a decade and a half, and after huge life changes in the last few years, I find myself at a significant crossroad. And I have decided to again pray the sorrowful mysteries every day during Lent. It feels a bit different now. My desire to be more consciously with Lord, to be aware of his presence every moment, and my desire to see more people come to really know him, have all grown considerably since then. And, I know how powerful and effective these Lenten prayer times can be. 
 
Would you like to try make a change this Lent?  Is there a particular sin you struggle with? Are you discouraged, or lonely? Is there someone you are worried about and want the Lord to work in their life? Lenten prayers are a powerful tool for change. Give it some thought!
 
To help with this process, I will be leading times of contemplative prayer, focusing on a different  one of the sorrowful mystery each week.  I’ll be at St. Francis Church in Winthrop at 6:00 PM on Tuesdays, and at St. Monica’s Chapel at 11:00 AM on Fridays. Hope to see you there!