The Memorial of Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church
The Lord God called to the man, and said to him, "Where are you?"
The man said, "I heard your voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; so I hid myself."
God said, "Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?"
The man said, "The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate it."
The Lord God said to the woman, "What have you done?"
The woman said, "The serpent deceived me, and I ate."
The Lord God said to the serpent, "Because you have done this, You are cursed above all livestock, And above every animal of the field. You shall go on your belly And you shall eat dust all the days of your life. I will put hostility between you and the woman, And between your offspring and her offspring. He will bruise your head, And you will bruise his heel."
The man called his wife Eve because she would be the mother of all the living.
His foundation is in the holy mountains. The Lord loves the gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob.
The Lord will count, when he writes up the peoples, "This one was born there." Selah. Those who sing as well as those who dance say, "All my springs are in you."
But standing by Jesus' cross were his mother, his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. Therefore when Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing there, he said to his mother, "Woman, behold, your son!" Then he said to the disciple, "Behold, your mother!" From that hour, the disciple took her to his own home.
After this, Jesus, seeing that all things were now finished, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, said, "I am thirsty!" Now a vessel full of vinegar was set there; so they put a sponge full of the vinegar on hyssop, and held it at his mouth. When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, "It is finished!" Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
Therefore the Jews, because it was the Preparation Day, so that the bodies wouldn't remain on the cross on the Sabbath (for that Sabbath was a special one), asked of Pilate that their legs might be broken and that they might be taken away. Therefore the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first and of the other who was crucified with him; But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they didn't break his legs. However, one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and immediately blood and water came out.
The Church honors Mary as Mother of the Church because at the foot of the cross, Jesus entrusted her not just to John, but to all of us who would become his disciples. From that moment, she became the mother of everyone who follows Christ.
Notice how the readings today trace a profound arc from the first woman to the new Eve. In Genesis, we encounter the devastating aftermath of the fall - blame, shame, and the fracturing of relationships. Adam points fingers at both God and Eve. Eve shifts responsibility to the serpent. Yet even in this moment of brokenness, God promises hope through the woman's offspring who will crush the serpent's head.
Fast forward to Calvary, and we find another woman standing in the place of ultimate suffering. While the disciples have fled, Mary remains. Her presence there isn't passive - it's a radical act of faithfulness that mirrors her "yes" at the Annunciation. What emerges is a stunning reversal: where the first Eve's choice led to exile from paradise, Mary's unwavering trust opens the way back.
The movement here is from motherhood lost to motherhood restored and expanded. Eve becomes "the mother of all the living" after the fall, but Mary becomes mother of all the redeemed. When Jesus says "Behold, your mother," he's not just making arrangements for her care - he's establishing a new family born from his sacrifice.
This speaks directly to how we handle our own moments of crisis and loss. Do we retreat into blame and isolation, or do we choose to remain present, even when it's costly? Mary shows us that staying close to suffering - whether our own or others' - can become the very place where new life emerges.
How do we practice Mary's kind of faithful presence in our relationships today? Where might God be calling us to remain when others have walked away?