The other day, I came across a social media post where a Catholic woman said she was "bothered by the casting choice for the role of Mary" in the series The Chosen. She wrote, “I always imagined Mary as being softer, if that makes sense.” The comments ranged from complete agreement to complete disagreement. One commenter said, “I feel the same. She is just a bit too bubbly. Mary is gentle and, I believe, somber.” Another person responded, “But she is also Mother Most Amiable and Cause of our Joy!”

As all ages and generations call Mary blessed, it makes sense that there will be many interpretations of what she might look like and be like. I am sure each one of us has an image of Mary in our minds and hearts--one that comes up when we say, “Hail Mary, full of grace…”

Just as the Risen Lord seemed to take on different appearances in the Resurrection stories, so it has been with Our Mother when she has appeared to us on earth. Fair-skinned one day, brown-skinned the next, full of joy and full of sorrow--your mother, my mother… a mirror of grace. She brings what our hearts need on this particular day. 

No, St. Peter didn’t comment on a social media post, but he might as well have. I can imagine him zealously setting the record straight about his mom. Yet, I don’t think the women who posted online were wrong. She is also their mom. She is everything to each one of us. Sometimes we need a cuddle; sometimes we need a scold, and we can rest assured, Our Mother knows. Saint Peter Julian’s observation is, of course, theologically sound. Where does he say Mary’s power comes from? It comes from the love of her Son.

So, let us remember we have recourse to a powerful Queen and Mother, full of grace--grace for us.

Oh, Blessed-Ever Virgin Mary, pray for us now and at the hour of death. Amen.
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The past few months have been especially challenging for our local faith community and for me personally. We are mourning the loss of several cherished members, gone today from this earth, and their absence is deeply felt by all of us.

Beyond that, my last surviving grandmother and two other close friends are battling severe illnesses, constantly in and out of hospitals. Another dear friend, a priest, sits battling ALS and descending little by little into his last days. All this sits heavily in my heart. Can I ask all of you to unite yourselves with us in prayer for them and all who are battling illness at this time? It is easier when we face the struggles together, united in faith and hope, praying for God’s will to be done and for His mercy and compassion to be made present.

Despite all our help, prayers, and hopes, I acknowledge that the grief we feel is heavy and difficult to bear.

Grief is defined as “a deep sense of sorrow caused by loss.”  Grief can result from the loss of a person or from changes in our state or situation. It can be a profound and aching experience, often overwhelming and disorienting. This intense sadness and resulting imbalance stems from our separation from what we have lost and can make life very challenging if not properly acknowledged and addressed.
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The Church teaches us that grief is a natural response to the separation from those we love or from significant changes in our lives. I imagine our Blessed Mother Mary at the foot of the Cross, witnessing the sacrifice of our Lord and mourning Jesus' passing. Life changed profoundly for her and the faithful that day. The grief must have been overwhelming because, at that moment, it was not yet understood what Jesus had accomplished with His death. Reflecting on it, would we have hope for Heaven today if Christ had not died on the Cross?

Knowing this, it is much easier to understand and accept Christ’s passing on the Cross. He died so we could live, and by His resurrection, the mourning turns to joy.

We are "baptized into His death," meant to reach the newness of life. This truth should inspire our drive and hope, yet we remain here in this "Valley of Tears," where the pain of loss can be isolating. We are not in the joy of Heaven yet. So, what can we do?
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Let us remain faithful. Loss can guide us closer to God, for He is the source of all comfort. As we lose the physical connection with someone, we must remember our unity remains in the mystical body of Christ. We are not alone. In the Eucharist, we remain One, united in Christ, and praying for one another. We trust in our Faith, as our hope is grounded in the trustworthy words of Christ.

Seeing death reminds us that our faith is in God and our hope is in the reality of resurrection and eternal life. This is the essence of our hope, that if we remain faithful, we will be with Christ and all the saints in Heaven, alongside our loved ones who have gone before us.

Saint Paul captures it perfectly. Christ is the beacon of our hope, the light through the darkness of mourning.
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For all of us who remain here, the Church, as the family of God, encourages us to seek solace through prayer, the sacraments, and the community of believers. Let us support each other during these difficult times, praying for one another and building each other up.

​Our love for those who have passed and now behold God's face is returned to us through their intercessory prayers. This is part of the Eucharistic life, that together we are nourished and comforted. Those who have “finished the race” are now cheering for us and supporting us.

​Indeed, we mourn, and that is perfectly fine and right. Let us take the time to mourn well and properly, let us be sad and cry copiously if we need to, but let us never lose the hope that comes from our belief. Remember, God acknowledges our temporal pain while affirming the hope of eternal life. We will be comforted.

​Our mourning is met with Divine Compassion and Mercy. Let us find comfort in Him who loves us, in our faithful community, and in our loved ones. May we trust that those who have passed rest in the arms of our loving and merciful God. May those who have gone on to the light of our Lord help us along the way.

Let us pray: "Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Like the seed buried in the ground, you have produced the harvest of eternal life for us; make us always dead to sin and alive to God. Amen." (Prayers for our Faithfully Departed)
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Dearest Eucharistic family,

I am currently standing in the vestibule of Saint Catherine of Siena Roman Catholic Church in Manhattan, New York while my husband is having a fourth surgery for sepsis infection. I have spent the last week in the hospital in the critical care intensive care unit with my spouse. I have met and chatted with so many nurses, doctors, and hospital staff throughout the hospital stay.

One young woman walked in, looked at me, and said Laura Altrui? I smiled and said Laura Worhacz for the past 36 years, the other was my maiden name. Caught up with this lovely nurse I had not seen in many years. She had the chance to share with me many hardships that her family endured. Her younger brother was best friends with my younger brother. She lost a brother in 9/11 whose funeral Mass I had attended back in 2001. He was a firefighter, a hero. We shared some tears in his remembrance. This lovely nurse continued to share that her husband died, her brother-in-law died, her father died and her mother has severe dementia. She looked at me with a smile and a tear and said, “It is our family curse.”

Immediately I said to her, “You are blessed.” We had a beautiful long talk about the sacraments faith and hope and the reality of the Cross. I said to this beautiful young nurse that we cannot give evil any power over our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We are not cursed. We are blessed.

We need to believe in our faith and have faith to believe. We live in the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and His promises of hope. This hope that we hang onto comes through the Paschal Mystery of Christ’s passion, death, and rising. This is the reality of the mystery of our faith.

Through this very extensive week of suffering with my husband, it has been beyond imaginable to see what he has gone through. I received notice of a dear sister who lost her son to brain cancer a beautiful little 11-year-old angelic soul. I just entered Mass when receiving news of the passing of this little one and felt wounded.

We are the church militant, and sometimes we are wounded in Christ. Our brethren raise us up in hope and prayer and trust and in love. In our prayers, we unite ever so deeply through the beating heart of the Eucharist, and we are strong and carried together through this journey of life. It’s all Grace.

May the covenant of our love for our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, reign in hope and bring us more, evermore to be at the foot of the Cross for those in need. May love inspire us to pour out ourselves in divine action by the grace of the Holy Spirit, all through the heart of our mother, our Lady of the Most Blessed Sacrament.