Our Lady of Ransom (2026)

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, St. Joseph, my father and Lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

There’s a pious tradition that holds that one night Our Lady appeared to King James I of Aragon, to St. Raymond of Peñafort, and St. Peter Nolasco, to ask them to establish the order of ransomers, whose purpose would be to ransom captives from the Moors.

Today’s feast commemorates that event. Our Lady of Ransom is the patroness of Barcelona, Santa Maria de la Merced. Pope Innocent XII extended the celebration to the entire Church in the 17th century.

We’re told in the Magnificat, “My soul magnifies the Lord… since in keeping with his mercy, his promise to our fathers, he watches over his servant Israel” (cf. Luke 1:46–55).

Our Lady is venerated under the title of Our Lady of Ransom in many parts of Aragon and also Catalonia in Spain, and in Latin America.

One writer says, under this invocation, a religious order was born to save Christians held captive by the Moors.

The symbols and images of Our Lady of Ransom — broken chains and open cell doors — remind us of her role as our liberator. She opens her arms in an offer of the freedom won for us by her Son the Redeemer.

Nowadays, the order’s principal endeavors are directed primarily towards freeing souls from the chains of sin and enslavement worse than any prison.

Today, we can pray in a special way for our brothers and sisters who are somehow marginalized on account of their faith. The unbloody persecution Catholics have experienced since the beginning of the Church is still common even in countries with a long Christian tradition.

In a sense, the passion of Christ continues into the present day. The Redeemer still passes through our streets and squares, carrying the cross, and continues to suffer through his members, the baptized.

He doesn’t weep in heaven, where he enjoys eternal happiness with the Father in wondrous light, but here on earth, where he lives on and endures contradiction and adversity.

One writer says, the tears of God roll steadily down the divine face of Jesus. Jesus himself weeps in each person who suffers. If we do not help stem the flow of these tears, we cannot truly say that we love him.

We can’t remain indifferent and impassive as mere spectators in the face of the crying needs of those around us. Our compassion for the sick and needy should be continually renewed and refined, especially with people who are prisoners of sin, the worst slavery of all.

Above all, we can depend on the communion of saints to pray for them and for all those who suffer persecution as well, that they may be strong and bear testimony to Christ.

The first reading of the Mass describes Judith, the woman who courageously freed the chosen people from the siege of Holofernes. The inhabitants sing out, filled with joy, “You are the exaltation of Jerusalem, the great glory of Israel, the pride of our nation. You’ve done all this good for Israel with your might” (cf. Jdt. 15:9–10).

The Church applies this Old Testament song of jubilation to Our Lady of Ransom, the new Judith, who with her fiat, her “let it be done,” operates in a unique way to bring about our salvation.

In the preface of Our Lady, it says Mary is the faithful mother who stands fearlessly beside the cross as her Son sheds his blood for our salvation and reconciles all things to himself in peace.

We approach Our Lady of Ransom as a powerful intercessor to move our friends, relatives, and colleagues to draw closer to her Son, especially through the sacrament of penance.

She will bring relief and renewed strength to those who in any way suffer persecution for being loyal to the faith. We also ask her help for the special family intentions so close to our heart, because our Mother in heaven has always excelled in generosity by granting us the graces we need.

In the gospel of the Mass, we read about the occasion when Our Lord gave us his Mother as our own. “When Jesus therefore saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing by, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, behold your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Behold your mother.’ And from that hour, the disciple took her into his home” (John 19:26–27).

We’re told in the prayer after communion that he gave us Mary as a most loving Mother. She always watches over her children with motherly affection so we may be rescued from all dangers and anxiety.

In the preface of Our Lady, we’re told, thus set free from the chains of oppression, we can attain to perfect liberty of body and soul.

She keeps many benefits in store for us and showers them down on each one of her children. Our first instinct should be to seek the patronage of our Mother in heaven when we’re in trouble or in need.

This is especially important if the devil introduces a complication into our soul that creates an obstacle in our path to God or separates us from others.

Our Lady is the help of Christians, as we pray in the litany. She’s our rescue and haven in the midst of the adverse winds and gales that can arise during the long voyage of life.

We Christians seek Our Lady’s intercession in a thousand and one different ways. We visit her shrines, have recourse to her while out on the street, seek her protection in the face of temptation, and converse with her intimately while saying the rosary.

One of the most ancient testimonies of filial devotion to Our Lady is the prayer that we have often repeated: “We fly to your protection, O holy Mother of God. Despise not our petitions, but in your mercy, hear and answer us. Save us from all dangers, O ever glorious and blessed Virgin.”

With the Memorare, we can pray daily for the one in our family who happens to be most in need.

We can tell her in the words inscribed by the Catalan poet in the recess behind a wayside image of Our Lady, “Virgin and mother, our consolation, show us the sure path. I am a man, but your son. You are the star and I am the pilgrim.”

Jesus said to her, “Woman, behold your son.” By accepting John as her own son, Mary shows her unparalleled love as a mother.

Pope John Paul II said, “Through that man, he entrusted every person to you. At the moment of the Annunciation, you consecrated the whole plan of your life in those simple words, ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord. Be it done unto me according to your word’” (Luke 1:38).

You embrace and draw close to everyone. You seek everyone out with motherly care. In a wonderful way, you are always found in the mystery of Christ, your only Son. You’re always present whenever his brothers and sisters are present, wherever the Church is present.

Your hands are laden with graces for us, and you are ever ready to shower them down on your children.

St. John accepts Mary as his mother. Until she’s taken up into heaven body and soul, he watches over her with great tenderness.

St. Josemaria says, “From that very hour, the disciple received her into his home.” Spiritual writers have seen in these words of the gospel a direct invitation to all Christians to bring Our Lady into their lives.

Mary certainly wants us to invoke her and to approach her confidently. She wants us to appeal to her as our mother, asking her, “Show us you are our mother.”

Pope St. John Paul says, the Blessed Virgin has never failed to hear us. May we never forget that the presence of Our Lady in the Church is always a motherly presence.

She tends to make the way easier. She prevents our straying from the right path in great and small matters alike, as our shortsightedness sometimes inclines us to do. Where would we be without her motherly vigilance?

Let us make an effort to petition her frequently as faithful sons and daughters.

Christian asceticism pictures man’s life on earth as a journey that has its end in God. St. Paul VI says we are all homo viator, the wayfarer longing to turn his steps quickly towards his definitive goal, God.

Because of this, we must all provide ourselves with hope if we want to walk with a firm and certain step along the hard path in front of us. If the traveler were to lose hope of reaching his destination, he would not continue with his journey. The only thing that keeps him on his way is his trust that he will someday reach his goal.

We want to travel very straight and fast towards holiness, to God. In human life, when a person sets themselves an objective, their hope of achieving it is based on their physical resilience, their training, and their own experience. When all is said and done, it’s based on their willpower, which enables them when necessary to draw strength from their very weakness.

To reach the supernatural end of our existence, we don’t rely on our own strength, but on God, who is all-powerful. He’s the faithful friend who does not let us down. His goodness and mercy are not the same as the mercy and goodness of men, which are frequently like a morning cloud, like the dew that goes early away.

Thanks to the supernatural virtue of hope, the Christian can be confident that he will reach his definitive objective, which has already begun with baptism in this life and will remain forever in the next.

This objective is not something merely provisional. It’s not the point of departure towards a further goal, as is the case with ordinary journeys.

Through this virtue, says one writer, we hope and long for that eternal life promised by God to those who love him, together with the means needed to achieve it and the support of his omnipotent help.

The greater the difficulties and the weaker we are, the stronger our hope in God and Our Lady has to be, for the greater his help will be. His closeness to our lives will be all the more evident.

In the second reading of the Mass, St. Paul recalls how Abraham “believed in hope against hope that he should become the father of many nations” as he had been told (cf. Rom. 4:18).

Pope John Paul I comments, you will say, “How can this happen?” It can happen because it clings tightly to three truths: God is omnipotent, God loves me immensely, God is faithful to his promises.

It is he, the God of mercy, who awakens trust within me, trust which makes me know that I’m not alone or useless or cast aside, but rather I am part of a salvific destiny which will end one day in paradise.

Abraham did not hesitate despite his advanced years and his wife’s sterility, but he trusted firmly in the power and mercy of God, being fully persuaded that God is able to do what he promises.

We, aren’t we going to trust Jesus Christ, who was delivered up for our sins and rose again for our justification?

How could God leave us alone to deal with the obstacles we encounter, which try to prevent us living in accordance with the call we have received from him?

He holds out his hand to us in many different ways — normally in our daily prayer, in our fulfillment of the plan of life we’ve set ourselves, in the sacraments, and in a special way in the advice we receive in spiritual direction.

Our Lord will never leave us alone on our journey through this world, on which we frequently experience faint-heartedness and weakness. The hope of becoming saints, of faithfully doing what God expects of each of us, depends on our accepting the hand that he holds out to us.

This virtue is not based on our own worthiness or our personal situation in life or on the absence of difficulties, but on God’s will, on his will that we should reach the goal, a will which is always accompanied by all the grace and help that we can need in any possible circumstances.

In The Forge, we’re told, “Though I should walk through the valley of the shadow of death, no evil will I fear. Neither my wretchedness nor the temptations of the enemy will worry me, for you, Lord, are with me” (cf. Ps. 23:4).

The Gospel of today’s Mass shows us once again how God is closer to those who need him most. He has come to cure, to forgive, to save, and not only to preserve those who are whole. He’s the divine physician who cures above all the sicknesses of our soul.

“Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick,” he says to those who criticize him for eating with publicans and sinners (Matt. 9:12).

When the things of the soul are not going well, when they’ve lost their health — and we’re never completely well — Jesus is ready to pour out more care, more help. He doesn’t abandon the sick man, and he doesn’t abandon us. He doesn’t give anybody up for lost. He doesn’t leave us alone with our defects, with those things we can and must improve, because he calls us to sanctity and he has the necessary graces ready for us.

It’s only the sick man who could cause the medicines and the actions of the physician who can cure all ills to be ineffective by refusing to take them.

The saving will of Christ for each of his disciples, for us, is the pledge that we will reach what he himself has asked of us.

The virtue of hope enables us to see that the difficulties of this life have a deeper meaning. They don’t happen by chance or by blind destiny, but because God wills them, or at least permits them, in order to bring forth greater good from those situations.

They cause us to strengthen our trust in him, to grow in the awareness of our divine filiation, to foster greater detachment from our health and from earthly goods, to cleanse our hearts of intentions which are perhaps not altogether good, and to do penance for our sins and for those of all men.

God tells us, each one of us, that he prefers mercy to sacrifice. If at some moment he allows pain and suffering to overwhelm us, it’s because it is good for us.

There’s a far more lofty reason that we at times do not understand. It’s for our own benefit, for that of our family, our friends, the whole Church. God wants a greater good, in just the same way as the mother who gives permission for an operation that will enable her child to become healthy again.

It is in such moments that we have to believe with a faith which is strong and to reawaken our hope. For it’s only this virtue that will teach us to regard as a treasure what humanly presents itself to us as failure, or perhaps as a great misfortune.

In The Way, we’re told, these are the moments when we have to go close to the tabernacle and say slowly to Our Lord that we want everything that he wants. This is a great mistake, says St. Teresa, we do to the disposition of Our Lord, who knows best what is for our good. Jesus, whatever you want. Whatever you allow, I with your help will accept as a great good, without laying down any limits or conditions. I will always thank you for everything if you are close to me.

We know that “in everything God works for good” (Rom. 8:28). We will say in the depths of our heart, even though we may be passing through a great physical or moral difficulty.

We have to overcome the way we tend toward selfishness, sadness, or merely trivial objectives. We are journeying straight towards heaven, and everything should become an instrument to bring us closer and enable us to arrive sooner. Everything, even our frailty.

In particular, we must frequently practice the virtue of hope in all that concerns the state of our own interior life, especially when it seems that we’re not advancing, that our defects are slow in disappearing, that we constantly make the same mistakes. We may then view sanctity as something very distant from us, or perhaps just an illusion.

We have to have very much in mind at those moments the teaching of St. John of the Cross, that the soul who has the hope of heaven achieves all that it’s hoped for.

There are people who do not receive divine goods precisely because they don’t have the hope of receiving them. Because their outlook is too human, too narrow. They don’t even glimpse the greatness of the goodness of God, who gives us his help even though we do not in the least deserve it.

This saintly author continues, “To win love’s chase, I took my way, and full of hope began to fly. I’d soar aloft and soared so high that in the end I reached my prey.”

Our hope should be in God alone, should be all-embracing, childlike, as God wants it to be. If we’re not miserly in the way we live it, we will obtain everything from him.

When holiness, which is the final aim of our lives, seems far away, we will try not to slacken our struggle to come closer to God. We will try to have ardent hope and to fulfill all our duties.

We can endeavor to put into practice the advice that we receive in spiritual direction and the resolutions from our examinations of conscience or from a last day of recollection.

We can struggle resolutely against discouragement. At a given moment, we may only be able to offer Our Lord the pain we feel for our defeats on battlefronts of greater or lesser importance, and our renewed desire to begin again. This then will be a humble offering which is very pleasing to God.

Hope encourages us to begin again with cheerfulness and patience and without getting tired. It makes us certain that with the help of Our Lord and his Mother, our hope will achieve victory, for he puts within our grasp all the means by which we may conquer.

Our Lady is always vigilant where her children are concerned.

The Catalan poet continues his poem saying, “Why most holy Virgin, do you look at us with eyes so wide open? Create in our soul a holy fear. May the miracles of the past be repeated today, and may you free us from every sin and from every vile cowardice.”

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, St. Joseph, my father and Lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

EW