The Sorrowful Mysteries: A Rosary Meditation

Is there any greater proof that God shared fully in our humanity than the fact that Jesus weeps and agonizes? Does Jesus pray a more heartfelt prayer than, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will”?  

Like Jesus, we too face our agony in the garden, while those around us like Peter, James and John are in a slumber, unaware that our “soul is sorrowful, to the point of death.”  

This mystery of the rosary is a reminder for us to wake up from our sleep, to encounter Christ in the agonizing face of those who are suffering. Pope Leo XIV teaches us that “contact with those who are lowly and powerless is a fundamental way of encountering the Lord of History.” As Catholic Extension Society’s president, Father Jack Wall, describes in his letter, featured in the Spring 2026 edition of Extension magazine, sharing people’s tears allows us to build a more compassionate world. 

It was the Romans’ practice to scourge those who were to be crucified, as if death on a cross was not punishment enough.   

A scourging leaves no mortal wounds, only jagged gashes and stinging stripes. One can only guess that Jesus lost count of how many times He was whipped. 

Many of us have been beaten down by the cruelty of others, or even worse, battered by our own personal struggles. We seek to hide the disfigurement. 

Addiction is a cruel and disfiguring form of torture. Those on the road to recovery can be beaten down by the countless lashes of relapse. Families are one casualty of addiction—and finding a way to restore broken families is at the heart of Deacon Miguel Serna’s ministry in Boise, Idaho. He once struggled with alcoholism, and now he seeks to help teenagers and parents overcome the sting of addiction. Read his story here.

Humiliation is the mob’s favorite tool. 

Jesus is surrounded. Stripped. Draped in scarlet red. Given a reed for His “scepter.” Crowned with spiky thorns. Spit upon. Mocked by thugs on bended knee. Struck repeatedly on His bleeding head.  

This is not suffering for suffering’s sake. Jesus is teaching us to respond bravely and to face those that would mock us. 

The anger and jeers of the mob exist today in many forms. Ask the families with loved ones who are incarcerated. They are often judged. Spurned and humiliated. Regarded as “fair game” and often deemed unworthy of mercy. It is the Church who bravely stands with these families. Stephanie Bernard and volunteers from the Diocese of Lafayette, Louisiana, reach out to families experiencing the pain and humiliation of having loved ones incarcerated. They see the face of Christ in those who are scorned and mocked, and they ignore the chants of the angry mob. Read their story here.

The cross conspires with gravity. It crushes those who try to bear its awful weight. It is uphill all the way. 

Thank God for the “Simon of Cyrene” pulled from the crowd, who helps us carry our cross. This is a role Jesus asks us to play for others.  

Some of the greatest leaders in the Church have been those who realize that it is a privilege to journey with those carrying their own cross. Years before his election to the papacy, Pope Leo XIV was a missionary in Peru, where he learned how to be a leader among the poor. Similarly, newly appointed Archbishop Ronald Hicks of New York spent five years in El Salvador caring for the poor and most vulnerable children of Latin America. When we bend down to help others carry the cross, Pope Leo said, the Church assumes her “highest posture.” Read about Archbishop Hicks here.

Jesus’ life that began hailed by a chorus of heavenly hosts at his birth was supplanted by a bloody and suffocating finish.  

But it was not the end.  

God’s love is still moving.  

A broken Jesus on the cross offers an amazing absolution as his parting gift: “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” 

Death and human failing might have the final say on earth, but the blood of the cross gives way to the glory of the resurrection and our own eternal life.  

This past year, a beloved young priest in rural Iowa, Father Guillermo Treviño, Jr., died suddenly at age 39. To parishioners, his death could have seemed like an end. But the Christian belief is that our lives and the lives of our departed do not end but transition to something beautiful. The people Father Treviño served continue to carry on his legacy of service and mercy in their parish, testifying to this essential Christian truth. Read about Father Treviño here.