The Disastrous Mysteries of the Rosary

I don’t know much about Pope Saint Pius V, but I know this: he was not of melancholic temperament. As someone who is married to a melancholic with a touch of the disposition myself, I have great affection for the introspective and philosophical bend of these subdued personalities. But as the name indicates, these personalities don’t tend towards optimism—which is why I know that Pope Pius V couldn’t have been a melancholic. Only the brightest of optimists could take the collection of events we now know as “The Joyful Mysteries” of the Rosary and name them thus. Yes, if Pope Pius had been a melancholic, he would have more aptly named these events as “The Disastrous Mysteries.” Being the pope who instituted today’s Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary after the miraculous Christian win at the Battle of Lepanto (source), he embodies the Christian charism of seeing the good in the most desperate of circumstances.

The Joyful Mysteries?

In the First Joyful Mystery of the Annunciation, a messenger from God tells a young virgin that God has selected her to bear the Messiah via pregnancy out of wedlock—a crime punishable by public stoning in her culture. Even if she herself believes in the possibility of a miraculous conception, she faces the certain wrath and retaliation of family, friends, and her entire community. It’s hard to bear a son when you’re subject to capital punishment. A melancholic would have called it “mission impossible.”

The Second Joyful Mystery, the Visitation of the Blessed Mother and unborn Jesus to Saint Elizabeth carrying Saint John the Baptist in her womb, admittedly carries with it no mortal peril, but as someone who has suffered through first-trimester morning sickness and exhaustion four times now, I can’t imagine traveling anywhere “in haste,” let alone caring for another woman during her pregnancy and birth. During those early weeks, I am the one in need of care, too exhausted to fold laundry and too repulsed by anything resembling food to prepare meals.

When it comes to the Third Joyful Mystery, even I can’t deny the element of joy inherent to the Nativity. (I know all too well that the joy of a healthy newborn trumps all troublesome obstacles that arise during the birthing process, such as my husband being denied access to the birthing room during Covid restrictions and my baby being taken from me immediately after birth “for safety.”) Still, I can’t imagine that Saint Joseph felt like a stellar husband and protector hauling his laboring wife across country only to give birth amid the stench of manure (although the stableful of animals were likely preferable to leaving her to fend for herself amidst potentially deadly rumors surrounding the baby’s conception at home).

The Fourth Joyful Mystery of the Presentation of the Infant Jesus in the Temple should be a joyful occasion, but anyone with a drunk uncle knows that it doesn’t take much to rain on a family celebration. I would certainly have a hard time staying joyful if a prophet showed up to our baby’s Baptism and proclaimed that he would face nationwide rejection and that sorrow would pierce my heart like a sword. (I’d take my drunk uncle over that announcement any day!) This same event is in fact listed also as one of the “Seven Sorrows of Mary,” renamed “The Prophecy of Simeon.” It is this defining moment that we see symbolized in every image of Mary’s Immaculate Heart, showing us that, contrary to a false prosperity gospel, even a sinless life comes with trials and sorrows.

Finally, as parents of a three-year-old whose wandering ways incited us to purchase an Apple air tag bracelet to keep track of him like an electronic leash, I am unable to imagine how Finding the Child Jesus in the temple belongs as the final of the “joyful” mysteries. There is nothing joyful about the ice-cold terror that grips your heart when you realize that your beloved child is missing. (Though there is a certain solace in realizing that even the world’s most perfect mother couldn’t keep track of her child 100 percent of the time). Even when you do finally find where your wayward munchkin was hiding, I wouldn’t exactly characterize the sobs and relief as . . . joy.

Joy Is Our Mission

Whether you are in the camp that sees the glass half full or half empty, we all go through times when it is difficult to discern how, exactly, God is working through this particular thing for the good of those who love Him (see Romans 8:28). And yet, we are called to be joyful in all things, even and perhaps especially in times of disaster.

Scripture continually reminds us of this call. Saint Paul tells us to “rejoice always” (Philippians 4:4) and to “Rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, persevere in prayer, (Romans 12:12). Saint James advises, “Consider it all joy, my brothers, when you encounter various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance” (James 1:2-3). Proverbs 17:22 reads, “A joyful heart is the health of the body, but a depressed spirit dries up the bones.” Further, in 2 Corinthians, Saint Paul urges us to be “always rejoicing,” even in our sorrows (6:10). The message of Scripture is clear: joy is the mission of every Christian.

Yes, But How?

How is it possible to be joyful in the face of suffering? Do we serve a God Who demands the impossible?

In his Spiritual Exercises, Saint Ignatius of Loyola offers us a key concept in what he calls the “First Principle and Foundation” of the spiritual life. In this passage found in the section for the first week, he explains that we are to cultivate a spirit of indifference in this life. What he means by “indifference” here is not apathy, but rather a kind of interior freedom towards the goods of this world, such that we do not desire health or riches or honor any more than sickness or poverty or humiliations. Rather, we should strive to desire and choose only that which leads us to our ultimate end in serving God (source).

This is the radical surrender that we see in Jesus, Who asked that the Father take the cup of suffering from Him, but ultimately prayed, “Not as I will, but as You will.” It is a surrender He almost certainly learned from His mother, whose fiat, her yes to the Lord in all things, is the key to finding joy in all these disastrous mysteries.

Conformity to their example is not something that can happen overnight, nor is it thankfully a process the Lord expects us to complete on our own. No, He invites us into this journey that is entirely impossible on our own, but as the words of Gabriel from the First Joyful Mystery remind us, “Nothing is impossible with God” (Luke 1:37). Imitating Mary means placing our faith in this reminder as we give our daily yes to God.

Whatever cross God is asking us to bear, may we be able to pray daily this beautiful prayer given to my husband and me by the priest who witnessed our wedding:

For everything that has been, thank you. For everything that will be, yes.

Samantha Stephenson is a Catholic homeschooling mother of four with a heart to illuminate beauty and dignity of the feminine vocation. She is the author of Mama Prays, Reclaiming Motherhood, and the upcoming book To Tempt a Mother: More Letters from Screwtape. She homesteads with her family on 1/3 acre in Southern Idaho. You can find her at www.snstephenson.com.