When I converted to Catholicism, I had no problem believing that Mary was the Mother of God. I didn’t struggle with her Assumption into heaven or with her Perpetual Virginity. I accepted that Mary was the Mother of us all and was given to us by Christ on the Cross when he said to John, “Behold your mother.”
All of these things I could understand.
Yet there was one obstacle that stood between me and Mary: her Immaculate Conception.
It wasn’t that I didn’t believe it. I did. I simply felt that it made her unrelatable. After all, she was sinless…and I was a sinner. How could she understand my problems? And frankly, (I am ashamed to admit this thought now), didn’t she have it easier than the rest of humanity since she was created by God without sin?
I wrestled with this for a long time, and unfortunately, it kept me from developing any kind of a real relationship with Mary.
Years later, during a silent retreat, I heard a talk on the Seven Sorrows of Mary. I had never really contemplated the sorrows Mary suffered. My eyes were opened to her in a new way.
As the one intimately united to her Son, Mary experienced the joys of Christ’s life, but she also entered into His pain and suffering. Even when she brought the Child Jesus to the Temple for what should have been a joyful moment, Simeon’s prophecy cut through her happiness as he foretold the sword that would one day pierce her heart.
She witnessed the horror of Christ’s Passion. She stood with John at the foot of the Cross as Christ suffered His final agony. She sorrowed over the sins of the world that her Son bore there. And at the moment when Christ gave Mary to John, she became our Mother too—able to sympathize with our sorrows, and even with our sins.
Over time, I began to understand Mary’s sinlessness differently. Her Immaculate Conception does not make her distant from our weakness. Rather, it reveals the purity of her love, and in many ways, brings her close.
Mary sees me and my sinfulness much the same way that a mother sees her own children’s sinfulness. No matter what a child does, a mother still loves. She still wants the best. She still longs for her child’s happiness and holiness.
A child’s sins cause sorrow, not because love is withdrawn, but because love sees clearly what sin costs. Sin eventually brings unhappiness and separation from God. Mary, too, sorrows for her children. She wants to reunite us with her Son.
Far from standing in judgment of us, Mary reaches out her hand to help us on our way. This is why she desires, more than anything, our repentance. This is why she is the Undoer of Knots.
And once I began to see Mary through the lens of her motherhood, something else became clearer as well: if Mary can be an example of how to live a life of faith most perfectly, then she can show us how to suffer most perfectly, too.
That realization has often returned to me in moments when life feels heavy and when I am tempted to believe that God is distant, or I waver in my trust in His Providential care.
I am grateful that I became Catholic during Pope St. John Paul II’s pontificate, because as a mother of young children, I was often strengthened by his words: “Be not afraid!”
It is easy to become overwhelmed by the pressures and obligations of our vocations. It is easy to fear that our failures will have lasting consequences, especially for those we love most. I think this is a universal fear and worry, which is why this simple command of John Paul II spoke to Catholics and non-Catholics alike.
Again and again, he called the world to place its hope in the Lord, and to remember that God is not hindered by human weakness. He said that God can use our weakness as easily as our strength to accomplish his will.
And it is no coincidence that Pope St. John Paul II’s words “Be not afraid” were so deeply tied to a papacy marked by Marian devotion. He entrusted himself to Mary in a particular way, especially under the title of Our Lady of Fatima, a devotion that became closely woven into his mission and the times in which he lived.
Read: Why Does Mary Have So Many Titles? Catholic Teaching on Marian Titles Explained
It is worth considering how certain devotions become especially crucial for particular moments in history. Although Our Lady Undoer of Knots first arose centuries ago, in Germany around 1600, it has been powerfully renewed in our own day—perhaps because our world, and our families, are in particular need of its fruits.
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Pope Francis brought the devotion to Our Lady Undoer of Knots to the greater public when he was a Cardinal. He urged the faithful to place the knots of life into Mary’s hands, reminding us that God’s mercy is greater than our tangled hearts:
“All the knots of our heart, every knot of our conscience, can be undone. Do I ask Mary to help me trust in God’s mercy, to undo those knots, to change? She, as a woman of faith, will surely tell you: ‘Get up, go to the Lord: he understands you’. And she leads us by the hand as a Mother, our Mother, to the embrace of our Father, the Father of mercies.” (Pope Francis, See Our Lady Undoer of Knots, Good Catholic series)
When looking at the image of Our Lady Undoer of Knots, it is hard not to be struck by the peace in her demeanor. She appears as a calming balm on the wounds of sin that so many suffer today, carefully and serenely untieing the knots that sin has created. Families especially need Mary, whose hands… are moved by the divine love and immense mercy that exists in her heart,” easing burdens that can otherwise feel impossible to carry.
Let us pray today for those who struggle with their faith, that they can turn to Mary to reunite them with her Son.
Mary, Undoer of Knots, pray for us!
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