Avoiding the Sorrowful

I like praying the rosary.  Actually, that's only partly true.  I like praying with the rosary.  I have a CD of Immaculee Illibagiza (the Rwandan Genocide survivor) praying the rosary, and I love to listen to it and pray along in my car.  Her soft African accent warms my heart, and makes me think of how beautiful her homeland must be in person.  I'd love to go there someday, and see the lush green land with my own eyes.   It could happen.  

So I mentioned that I like to pray with the rosary, because for me (and probably thousands of others) praying the rosary is like taking a bus.  I like buses.  Some of them are quite decorative, or have clever sayings on the sides.  Some are simple "cheese wagons" like the ones that drive the kids to school.  Anyway, I take the bus to get somewhere.  The bus is not my destination, but a pleasant transportation device to get me where I truly want to be.  In this case, my rosary praying is the same way.  My destination is not 10 Hail Marys.  The 5 mysteries are just bus stops to let me know where I am on the journey, and to remind me where I'm heading.  My destination is with God, whatever that looks like on any given day.  

There are 4 sets of 5 mysteries when praying the rosary, and I usually pray only one set at a time.  
The Joyful mysteries are my favorites:  The Annunciation (when Gabriel told Mary what was up), The Visitation (When Mary visited Elizabeth), The Birth of Jesus, The presentation of Baby Jesus at the Temple, and Finding young Jesus in the Temple (after his folks had already traveled on for several days. I'd have been furious!) There are also 5 Luminous Mysteries, 5 Glorious Mysteries, and the ones I avoid...

The Five Sorrowful Mysteries

1. The Agony in the Garden 
2. The Scourging at the Pillar
3. The Crowning with Thorns
4. The Carrying of the Cross
5. The Crucifixion and Death of Our Lord

It's just not possible to properly celebrate Easter, or the joy of salvation without acknowledging these sorrowful events.  Life is full of sorrow, and without sorrow, we would never feel joy, but right now I'm not ready.  I'm afraid I'll get bogged down into my own crosses and crownings.  I've woven a pretty sizable crown of thorns to wear on my own head, and every piercing thorn is a reminder of the times I've stubbornly shouted "No, thank you, I can do it myself!" to God. I earned that scourging, not Him, and the guilt of it is almost too much to bear.   

The sorrowful mysteries also carry the greatest blessings, however, and I need to think of them.  Each drop of blood was given, not taken.  Each lash of the whip was received, not given.  He GAVE his life, no one TOOK it.  It was always HIS to give, and He gave it to me.  He gave it FOR me.  

Because He LOVES me.    

And the bus--I mean, the rosary-- takes me there. To the place where I am beloved and with the one who loves me into being!  

I'd encourage you to get on your bus and ride to that place.