The month of September is traditionally dedicated to Our Lady of Sorrows as the great Feast that we celebrate on the 15th of this month is the Triumph of the Holy Cross, the day in which we celebrate the fact that our redemption has been won by an object designed for the most extreme torture given to criminals.
Our Lady relates and understands the pain that we experience on this earth due to sin. There are Seven Sorrows of Our Lady that are traditionally meditated on during this month. They are the Prophecy of Simeon when Our Lord was presented in the temple (Luke 2:34-35), The Flight into Egypt after Jesus’ Birth (Matthew 2:13-21), the Finding of the Child Jesus in the Temple after he had been lost for 3 days (Luke 2:41-50), the Carrying of the Cross when Jesus meets Mary on the way to Calvary (John 19:17), the Crucifixion (John 19:18-30), Jesus being taken down from the Cross (John 19:39-40), and Jesus laid in the tomb (John 19:39-42). Mary knew pain and she knew suffering.
On the Feast day of Our Lady of Sorrows, which follows the day after the Triumph of the Cross, a beautiful sequence is given before the Gospel that day. In the life of the Church, many beautiful hymns have been composed for this sequence in both Latin and English. I encourage you to look at least one up and listen to it, as well as to take some time throughout the rest of this month to meditate on this striking hymn below:
Peace,
Fr. Andrew
At the Cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful Mother weeping,
close to her Son to the last.
Through her heart, His sorrow sharing,
all His bitter anguish bearing,
now at length the sword has passed.
O how sad and sore distressed
was that Mother, highly blest,
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?
Bruis'd, derided, curs'd, defiled,
She beheld her tender child
All with bloody scourges rent.
For the love of His own nation,
Saw Him hang in desolation,
Till His spirit forth He sent.
O thou 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 my 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,
in 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.