To Jesus Through Mary

Divine Appeal Reflection - 282

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 282: " ... pray with My Mother and never tire."

When Our Adorable Jesus implores us to “pray with My Mother,” He unveils a mystery of unfathomable tenderness: that the path to His Sacred Heart passes through the Immaculate Heart of His Mother. Mary is not a barrier but the echo of His own voice, the mirror that reflects only Christ. To pray with her is to enter into her Fiat—that moment when the Eternal Word took flesh and prayer became incarnation. The saints grasped this hidden wisdom: St. Louis de Montfort taught that to truly find Christ, one must first surrender to Mary, for she is the living mold in which souls are formed into His likeness. Across the centuries, popes have turned to her as fortress and refuge; John Paul II confessed that in his darkest trials, it was her maternal intercession that sustained him, sealing his life with the words Totus Tuus. 

Yet this path is not reserved for the great alone—it is given to all. Daily responsibilities wear parents thin, priests carry sorrows hidden from sight, workers worry about tomorrow’s bread, and students feel crushed by the weight of their tasks. Yet even the most fragile petitions can be placed into her steadfast gaze. To pray with Mary is to let her Magnificat turn grievances into thanksgiving, her Nazareth silence steady our restlessness, and her steadfastness at the Cross teach us the grace of remaining when love demands all. She does not remove life’s weight, but she shows us how to carry it with Christ, until every trial is transfigured into a seed of hope and every tear becomes a prayer ascending to heaven. With her, prayer ceases to be burden and becomes participation in heaven’s eternal hymn of surrender and love.

Mary is the Mother who never abandons, the star guiding the barque of Peter through tempests. When Christ calls us to pray with her, He is inviting us into that sanctuary of maternal strength which Popes and saints have known as their sure refuge. Pope Leo XIII, amid cultural upheaval, turned insistently to the Rosary, calling it the “Christian’s safeguard,” because he knew Mary’s prayer disarms despair. From every corner of the Church’s history, saints have borne witness to Mary’s strength. The Rosary armed St. Dominic with a shield of truth; St. Maximilian Kolbe carried Mary’s presence into the dark abyss of Auschwitz; St. Teresa of Calcutta gripped her beads when heaven seemed silent. 

Yet praying with Mary need not always take the form of long devotions—it may be as simple as a quick glance of love, a sigh lifted heavenward with her name, a brief ejaculation such as ‘Mary, my Mother, be with me now’ whispered in weakness, or recalling the Angelus while walking through busy streets. Even carrying a rosary quietly in one’s pocket becomes like keeping a spark alive beneath ashes. In her maternal care, weary sighs are turned into prayer, unnoticed sacrifices into offerings shining before God. With Mary, even the tiniest acts of faith carry eternal weight, bringing hope where despair is deeply ingrained. With Mary beside us, even the smallest gesture of trust becomes something eternal, breathing hope into places where despair seems permanent. Her motherly intercession does not replace our prayers but lifts them higher, giving them purity and strength before Christ. No disciple journeys abandoned when she is near. To walk in prayer with Mary is to find that weakness itself can become a vessel of grace, for faith does not collapse under the weight of trial but is tempered like gold in the fire—its light growing most pure when the night is at its darkest.

Mary taught at the foot of the Cross that the truest test of prayer is not words but persistent devotion—a love that endures when words fail and holds firm even in the quiet of pain. She did not flee, she did not despair, she remained—her silence itself a ceaseless prayer rising from pierced love. When Jesus tells us, “never tire,” He is summoning us into this same endurance. Saints and Popes have drawn unceasingly from her example. St. Bernadette endured illness with strength found in Mary’s gaze; St. Padre Pio bore wounds of Christ while clinging to her rosary as his weapon against darkness; Pope Benedict XV, facing the carnage of World War I, consecrated humanity to Mary’s intercession, believing her fidelity could sustain the Church through unimaginable loss. For us, this means persevering in prayer when God seems distant, continuing the Rosary when distractions multiply, repeating “Fiat” when God’s will is heavy to bear. Parents weeping for wandering children, priests praying in solitude, youth resisting modern idols—all can find in Mary a companion who teaches prayer as sacrifice, prayer as steadfastness, prayer as love that refuses to abandon. To pray with her is to learn how to stand at every Calvary until dawn breaks and resurrection is unveiled.

Her prayer is never isolated, for she is the Mother of Christ and Mother of His Mystical Body (cf. CCC 963). When we pray with Mary, we are lifted from the narrowness of our own concerns into the vast horizon of the Church’s universal prayer. Popes have turned to this truth in decisive moments: Pope John XXIII entrusted the Second Vatican Council to Mary’s maternal protection, knowing her intercession could guide the Church into renewal; Pope Paul VI, amid turbulence, proclaimed her “Mother of the Church,” a title affirming that every Christian finds a place beneath her mantle. Saints echoed this communion: St. John Bosco invoked her as “Help of Christians” for his young boys, while St. Charles de Foucauld prayed to her in desert solitude as if the Church herself knelt with him. For us, to pray with Mary is to awaken to the mystery that no prayer is solitary. A hurried Hail Mary on a crowded bus is gathered into the same harmony as monks keeping vigil in silence, as the pope bending low before her image, as a child stumbling through his first words of faith. Mary gathers all time and place into one hymn of trust, and through her maternal heart, every whisper, every tear, every silence becomes incense before the throne of the Lamb.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, teach us to remain in prayer with Your Mother without ceasing. When fatigue weighs us down, let her sustain us; when distractions scatter our hearts, let her gather us back to You. Make every vocation a cenacle where Your Spirit comes anew. May our perseverance become love’s pure offering, and our prayer rise as the fragrance of heaven before Your throne.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.