 |
| Photo created by Google AI Image Creator. |
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will
give you rest." - Matthew 11:28
The
Mountain That Draws People Upward
In
1119, a young nobleman from Piedmont named William of Vercelli climbed a rugged
mountain called Partenio, the Virgin Mountain, near Avellino in southern Italy.
He was seeking solitude, penance, and a life of radical prayer. He built
himself a small shelter and began to live as a hermit.
Disciples came. A monastery grew. William founded the Williamite Order and
dedicated his mountain sanctuary to Our Lady. Monte Vergine, the Virgin's
Mountain, became one of the great pilgrimage centers of southern Italy.
At the heart of the sanctuary is a dark, ancient Byzantine icon of the Virgin
Mary known as the Mamma Schiavona, the Slavic Mother. Tradition holds that
Saint Luke painted it. Whatever its precise origins, the image has drawn
pilgrims for nine hundred years. The poor of Naples and Campania have always
felt a particular bond with Monte Vergine, climbing the mountain on foot as an
act of penance and love.
There is something deeply human about climbing a mountain to pray. It costs
something. It requires effort. The air at the top is clean and sharp, and
heaven seems very near. William of Vercelli knew this. The millions who have
climbed after him know it still. Our Lady waits at the top. She is worth the
climb.
Today's Gospel - John 21:15-19
Jesus
asked Peter three times: "Do you love me?" After Peter's three
denials, Jesus offered three opportunities for restoration, not with
accusation, but with a question. Love me? Then feed my sheep.
Peter had to climb back. He had fallen, denied, wept, and now the Risen Lord
was asking him to ascend, not a physical mountain, but the mountain of
commitment and mission. The climb after failure is harder than the first climb.
But Jesus made it possible.
Our Lady of Monte Vergine is the mother who waits at the top of every mountain,
including the ones we must climb after our failures. She does not meet us only
at the summit of our successes. She meets us when we are climbing back.
A Prayer
Our
Lady of Monte Vergine, you who dwell on the heights and draw your children
upward, draw us.
When our spiritual lives feel flat and stale, when prayer has become a burden
rather than a joy, take us by the hand and lead us up the mountain. We know the
climb costs something. We are willing to pay.
And when we are climbing back from failure, when the mountain feels steeper
because we have already fallen, be the one waiting at the top who does not hold
the fall against us. Just the question: do you love me? Yes. Then come.
Our Lady of Monte Vergine, pray for us. Amen.
Reflection
Peter had already failed, and not so quietly. He had sworn,
loudly and publicly, that he did not know the man. Three times, not just once.
Then the rooster crowed, and the weight of what he had done collapsed on him.
Most of us, in that moment, would have walked away. What right did he have to
lead anyone, and what credibility remained? The fall had been too visible, too
complete.
But Jesus did not give Peter a speech. He did not give him an explanation of
why the denial was understandable, or a careful argument, or why Peter deserved
another chance. He simply built a fire, cooked some fish, and asked Peter a
question. The same question, three times, once for each denial, as if love,
spoken aloud enough times in the presence of the one you love, can quietly undo
what fear spoke in their absence. Jesus did not erase the fall. He climbed
through it.
This is what makes Monte Vergine such a powerful image. The mountain does not
become easier because you have fallen. If anything, it is steeper, your legs
remember the last time, your pride has been humbled, and you carry the
additional weight of knowing what you are capable of when things get hard. The
pilgrims of Naples who climb that mountain on foot, in penance, are not
pretending the descent never happened. They are choosing to ascend because
it did.
If the most horrific failure of your life were met not with a verdict but instead
with a single, quiet question about love, what would your answer be that
would make shame impossible? That’s a tough question. I, too, have a challenge
with this one.
Rosary Man Jim 🌹
Freely given. Freely shared.
