THE MYSTICAL ROSE

THE MYSTICAL ROSE 

THE ROSE 

The ROSE was first planted in my childhood and teen years, when I received my First Communion and Confirmation as a member of St. ROSE parish. (The feast of St. Rose is August 30.)

The presence of the “rose” is sometimes subtle, like a whisper; but dramatic results occur, which at time go unnoticed. As this reservoir is being filled, I have found that the “rose” is a strong spiritual presence in my life, and that weeping tears are the element of my deepest compassion. That this reverence and peacefulness within my heart and soul, are Christ-like, and the mist of grace, is falling upon the path, of my journey. And ever since I've started each day, wiping the tears from the face of Christ, from the crucifix, which hangs on my bedroom wall, blessing myself with the sign of the cross, I have felt these tears of compassion, being drawn inward, deep within me; drawing deep within, from the Lord’s Divine Mercy. I have also felt, an inner closeness to our Blessed Mother, and have recognized the sorrow and torment she must have felt, as her Son was crucified and hung on a cross to die. And in this same element of sorrow, the self-crucifixion of aborted babies, I have felt this overwhelming compassion for our Blessed Mother, as she once again, encounters death and sorrow, for her children. A mother so sorrowful; but yet, so compassionate. And of this compassion, I am confronted with the “rose.” The “rose” which beckons me, intertwined on my journey. A journey of petals of love, that fall away, and fall onto others in compassion, is but a mirror, of the face of my soul: the face of the “rose,” weeping tears of compassionate love, filling this compassionate reservoir. 

The meaning of the ROSE became evident when I attended a catholic lecture series, “From the Head To The Heart.” At the lecture on October 9, 1995, a woman spoke to me and said she remembered me from a previous lecture series in 1992. I astonished her when I told her what her name was and where she worked. However, more so remarkable was a cross I carried in my pocket, she had given to me in 1982, blessed by Father DiOrio. I returned this cross back to her as a gift of hope, in her troubled life. This woman's name is ROSE. 

On this same night, I placed at the foot of the altar, a pair of shoes, a blanket and a red Rose, in response to last week's message about the homeless, the poor, and a homeless man named Jim, who gave his own shoes to another homeless man. This gesture was of the purity of the heart, and I felt compelled to do this. 

August 14, 1996 (Excerpts from my journal “Filling The Reservoir.”) 

THE MYSTICAL ROSE 

The Mystical Rose, is a name referred to Our Blessed Mother, symbolized as a rose without thorns, as Mary is without sin. The white rose symbolizes Mary’s purity, while the red rose symbolizes suffering. 

For what is a flower, without petals: an empty shell, the loss of its beauty; a foundation, with no roof; a messenger, that lost its voice of perfume; a caller, with no visitors; once was, now gone; an empty stem, faceless; just a weed; alone; cast away; forgotten. The flower, and one's life, are but the same: a cycle that passes, from here to there. What remains, is the memories and sentiment, of in between. And of all the flowers that call, the strongest of these, is, the red rose. A red rose, its petals form its face, captivates one's heart in love, and draws inward within thyself. 

For on my journey, the roses that have fallen upon my path, I have found to be, not roses, but rose petals, that build and shape the rose. For the roses I have written about, have drawn me to a higher level of spiritual awareness. This sentimental aroma, has infatuated my senses, to encounter my heart to be led, to our Blessed Mother, “The Mystical Rose,” herself. I do not entertain this thought lightly, or, for my own amusement. The artwork is there; and this magnetic spiritual presence, penetrates my soul, drawing me closer, to my Lord Jesus. This continuous encounter with roses, petals that shape my heart to respond, forms a reservoir of compassion. These events are like a budding flower, slowly opening, shaping, building, leading, to the Mystical Rose. 

So it is, I pray: “Be it done onto me.” (Luke 1:38) Whatever you ask of me, be it the Lord's Will; I give myself to Thee. I compassionate my thoughts, with my heart and soul to the Mother of God, in remembrance of her sorrow and weeping tears, for the suffering and wounds of Her Son Jesus, and for all the aborted children. I am, deeply affected by the passion of Our Lord, that this one Holy Man endured such inflictions, such pain, and torment, for the love, of all others. The Lord's mother was there, to endure it all; to see it all; to feel it all. I embrace Thy sorrow, and my thoughts are with Thee. (I even smell roses, at this very moment as I write this.) I can only tell you, that this “scent of roses,” is real, and I write about this, not to convince anyone, or make you believe, but it is here in testimony, that this is occurring with myself. This also happens to other people, and they too, can testify to this phenomenon. 

Fr. Stefano Gobbi of Dono, Italy has been receiving “interior locutions,” messages from Our Blessed Mother since 1973. He started the Marian Movement of Priests, and these cenacles of prayer, are worldwide. 

In the message to Fr. Gobbi on January 28, 1984, Our Blessed Mother speaks about “the scent of roses”: “I look at you and illumine you with my beauty. In you I reflect the candor of heaven that is mine. You should be lilies in your purity, roses in your fragrance, cyclamens in your littleness. In this way you compose this beautiful crown of love that makes the thorny crown of my sorrow break into blossom. By the sign I give you with fragrance I exude, sometimes of lesser, sometimes of greater strength, I wish to show you that I am always among you, but especially when you are more in need of me. If you do not recognize perfume, or notice it in a very faint way, it is not because I do not love you, or because you are wicked. A mother loves even with merciful predilection those who have the greater need for her.” 

I am, no saint; I am, a sinner. I have my faults and short comings, and have displeased the Lord in many ways, for many years. The path, I now have been led to, is a path chosen by me, to endure the journey, to “seek and find the Lord.” (Jeremiah-29:13) I trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, in all His mercy; that I, am not more than I am, only what the Lord gives me! 

This is a journey of love, of compassion; and the passion to comprehend in thy heart and soul, the passion and suffering of Jesus Christ. It is to, “Come take up the cross, and follow me” (Mark 10:21) and erect it in thy soul. And it should be noted here, that God made man in His own image. Jesus was crucified and died at age 33. There are 33 vertebrae in the human spine. There are also, 33 joints, in each human foot. So to say, “Come take up the cross, and follow me” (Mark 10:21) takes on a greater meaning; that a human is formed with these elements at birth, to a journey, of which we are all called. To abort the unborn with these Christ-like features, is the mark of the antichrist, and is a graver sin, than is recognized. 

For this is why Our Blessed Mother weeps in sorrow, as these aborted pieces with no names, reflect upon the creative temple of the Father. Our journey to the Father, is to take Jesus from the cross, and hold Him, to give comfort to all His inflictions, and have the presence of Our Blessed Mother, the Mother of God, within thyself, to comfort her weeping tears of sorrow and torment. 

This is the path, of the “rose.” The rose, is not an icon to adore in prayer. It is a symbol, Our Blessed Mother uses, to draw thy spiritual self to her, to inspire one's love and attention to Her Son. The devotion to the rosary, creates a continuous spiritual presence of Our Blessed Mother. 

Another meaning for “rosary,” is, “a rose garden.” And so it is, the “mystical rose”: the sentiment of aroma of thy Blessed Mother’s heart, pours a mist of grace, a gift of herself who take her hand, and walk with her, embracing her sorrow, among the roses. 

What is a flower without petals? It is one that stands alone, like a cross on a hill; sorrowful and rejected, looking at those that pass by; that the gift it has, cannot find anyone’s heart, for its gift is internal, not external. For it is the roses of the heart, that are the purest and sweetest, and most precious of all. This is the “mystical rose”; this is Our Blessed Mother, the Mother of God. 

Mother and Son, Son and Mother, Jesus and Mary, I love you!

Robert J. Varrick 

rjvarrick@gmail.com