Leaning Into the Seven Sorrows

I’ve been attending a church that exclusively offers the Traditional Latin Mass. More on how I got there another time. But as I was practicing the recitation of the rosary in Latin, I found myself being especially drawn to the five Sorrowful Mysteries. That prompted me to look for my Seven Sorrows chaplet. But, as with my old rosary, it seems to have vanished. I would have thought they’d both be stashed away in my attic chapel area, but instead they’ve both gone missing in the years that I’ve neglected them. I used to say a rosary every day, but that was a long time ago. Now that I’m making an effort to get myself back into a prayer routine, I’m finding that I have to start from scratch with a few things. 

The rosary I already have covered: I’m using the one that belonged to my late father-in-law. My wife gave it to me when she was cleaning out her mom’s house a few years back. But I still didn’t have a Seven Sorrows chaplet. So I went looking for a new one, and my online browsing led me to an eBay seller who gives new life to old, forgotten, and broken sacramentals. That idea really spoke to me, as I’d much rather have something made with intention and love than something cheap and mass-produced.

For those who aren’t familiar, the purpose of saying the Seven Sorrows rosary is to enter into the Blessed Mother’s sufferings with her. And why would you want to do that? Because if we can unite with Mary’s sufferings, we can draw closer to Christ’s suffering. In our own times of suffering, that can make it easier to unite our suffering with his. In the words of Pope John Paul II: “From Mary we learn to surrender to God’s will in all things. From Mary, we learn to trust even when all hope seems gone. From Mary, we learn to love Christ, her Son and the Son of God.”

It is, of course, a Catholic tradition to take our sufferings and offer them up in service to a greater cause, often as a kind of reparation for both our own failings and those and others. But in a more general sense, undertaking this practice encourages us to reflect on the nature of suffering — and of compassion for those who suffer.

Mary, as our spiritual mother, is also seen as the comforter of suffering souls. She’s our Consolatrix Afflictorum. And that’s what I mainly take from the Seven Sorrows devotion: It reminds us that we don’t suffer alone in this life. And when you do feel alone with your sufferings in this world, that can actually be a deeply comforting thought. 

Saying the Seven Sorrows chaplet regularly can also sharpen our empathy toward others when we see them struggling. It can help us develop a sense of lovingkindness toward others who suffer, while soothing us with the knowledge that our suffering is never in vain and that our tribulations unite us in a sense with others who are going through difficult times.

We’re going through difficult times right now, as cancer has decided to knock on our family’s door and pay a visit. In the past, I would have wondered what any of us did to deserve this, or why a loving God would let people suffer. Now I just take comfort in knowing that the Blessed Mother sits with us and consoles us in our time of need. That’s enough, because it has to be. It’s also a big part of the reason I’ve decided to embrace the Seven Sorrows practice. I think it will help me make sense of things, or at least help me deal with them a little better. 

The Seven Sorrows devotion is an old one, dating to the thirteenth century, when the men of the Servite Order made it the center of their prayer life. They actively promoted it during the Black Death a century later, which gives you an idea of the context the Servites had in mind with their practice. St. Bridget of Sweden, herself alive when the plague was raging through Europe, received a vision during which the Blessed Mother said she would grant seven graces to those who honored her sorrows. Of course, we remember the Seven Sorrows not with the expectation of “getting” any kind of reward, and experience has taught me the hard way that if your prayer life is centered on the expectation of any kind of reciprocation, you’re going to end up disappointed and disillusioned.  

Now, I tend to be one to look for signs and take them to heart. And it was only after purchasing my chaplet that I realized the church’s annual feast day devoted to the Seven Sorrows is today, September 15. That was either a crazy coincidence or I was being given a little nudge to lean into this prayer devotion in my family’s time of suffering. Moreover, when I went to look for the Seven Sorrows devotional booklet I recently purchased, I found inside a card I’d picked up recently from a newly ordained priest at the church I attend. The image he featured on his card? Mary’s Immaculate Heart, pierced with seven swords. That’s an image I’m feeling very drawn to at the moment, and it also ties in with the Seven Sorrows devotion. How about that?

When I got my chaplet in the mail, I was pleasantly surprised to see how big and heavy it is. It fits nicely in my hands. And I just love the handmade aspect. The beads are made from upcycled green glass bottles, and the Mary medal was salvaged from a rosary factory in France that no longer exists. Seven Sorrows chaplets are usually made of black beads, not green, but I’m not going to complain. 

Also, there’s usually not a cross or a crucifix attached to the chaplets, but this one arrived with a big golden cross hanging behind the Mary medal. And since it came that way, it sort of feels wrong for this particular chaplet not to have one. But it also didn’t feel quite right for it to have a cross and not a crucifix, considering the crucifixion is one of the Seven Sorrows. So I swapped out the cross that came with it with a special crucifix inscribed with the Seven Sorrows. That should be useful when I start saying the prayers. I also added a second crucifix that I liked, just for some extra personalization. I particularly liked the inscription on the back: I am a Catholic. In case of accident, call a priest. Not that anyone is ever going to see it. But I have an ID card in my wallet that says basically the same thing. I guess it’s kind of goofy, but somehow it makes me feel more like part of Team Catholic.

Today seems like the best day possible to start in on reciting the chaplet and turning it into a habit. I’m now also inspired to rearrange my attic chapel space with a definitive Seven Sorrows theme. Until now, it was sort of a catch-all area with no specific purpose.

Next up: trying to get myself invested in the Black Scapular through the Servite Order that offers it. It serves the same ultimate goal as the Seven Sorrows rosary but is more of a constant reminder of the Sorrows as we attempt to navigate our own. You can put a rosary away when you’re done praying it. But once you’re invested in a scapular, the expectation is that you’ll wear it all the time, for the rest of your life — just like your sorrows that will always be with you.

I would say fun times lie ahead with this new-to-me devotion, but that’s not really the point. The point is just to push through, because sometimes that’s what you have to do in life.