The word agony had its origin in the harrowing struggle between gladiators in ancient Rome. Therefore, the Virgin Mary came to be invoked by fishermen from Viana do Castelo in Portugal, as Our Lady of Agony. They started to use the title “of Agony” because they always face the great struggle against the dangers of shipwreck. The sea in the region was very rough and as a result, the boats were thrown towards a cliff called “Penedo Ladrão”. The families of the brave fishermen watched from the pier, anguished with the struggle those men were fighting for their lives. Kneeling, they fervently cried out for Our Lady of Agony.
It can be believed that the devotion to “Our Lady of Agony” is closely linked to the poem that Jacopone de Todi dedicated to the Mother of Jesus, in her agony allied to the agony of Christ on the Cross.
Agony, in its primitive split, means that harrowing fight between the gladiators, before the howling, bloodthirsty crowd.
The victory of one of them was the guarantee of life, which was at stake, in a fight, without quarter, where the death of one would be the survival and victory of the other.
Hence, the extension of its meaning to the struggle of the dying person against imminent death, going further, to the anguish in the face of suffering, which seems to be impossible to overcome.
Jacopone de Tode, born in 1228, of an illustrious family, married a very wealthy woman and lived a very worldly life. In 1268, his wife suddenly died and his life changed entirely.
He sold everything he had and gave to the poor and became religious, but he did not reach the priesthood.
Divine love touched his heart so much that it made him cry constantly: “I cry, he said, because this love is not loved!” And this struggle for the love of God led him to inspire him with the most beautiful poems in praise of the pain of the Virgin at the foot of the cross, pain that he himself felt in the struggle to achieve peace and salvation for his soul.
“Stabat Mater Dolorosa” is one of 20 stanzas in which the author sings of Mary's anguished struggle, faced with the suffering, struggle and death of her Son Jesus, for our salvation.
By one man, death entered the world, by another Man, death and sin were overcome, in an immense struggle of agony and apparent failure of a God, who, assuming the human condition, in this arena of the world lost by sin, saved the humanity.
The six stanzas (stanzas 1 to 4 and 7 and 8 of the original text) expose Mary's great agony at the foot of the cross; stanzas 5 and 6, in the original, are a transition from the Mother's pain to the children. ”Quis est homo qui non fleret…” (Poor Mother, so desolate, seeing her thus pierced, who does not cry with pain?) “Quis non posset contristari…” (Who would not be constricted, when contemplating the Mother of Christ, before such agony?”). The 12 other stanzas are a fervent prayer to the Mother of Sorrows: “Eia, Mater, fons amoris… (“O mother, make me share your pain and that of your Son, grant me, so, a happy eternity”).
Is it necessary to insist on the beauty of such a moving poem? What a solemn evocation, in these first words: “she IS that Mother, so full of wonderful tenderness! She, at the foot of that instrument of torture, from which her Son hangs, weighed down by pain, stands firm.
There are those who criticize the epithet “Dolorosa” and the tears of the Mother. On the contrary, there are those who criticize the word “Stabat” (was standing) and the firm and energetic attitude of the Virgin! What to think of it?
Could it be that the former wanted a Mother who, in such circumstances, would not feel this pain in her soul? Surely she wouldn't be a Mother anymore; we would not understand and he could never be a model for us who suffers! And the second, would they have forgotten that, fortified by a special grace and associated with the torture of her Divine Son, the Virgin Mary, although overwhelmed by the most bitter pains, could not remain firm and courageous?
Neither insensitivity, nor weakness, nor fainting. Mary should have been like this, standing and “painful”, for her own glory and for our teaching.
Taking into account what this poem teaches, it is a mystery of our rescue, through the sufferings of Jesus and Mary, to which we must associate ourselves with our own sufferings.
In the painful monotony of words and melody, the author touches the intimate strings of the sensitivity of our being, leading us to listen to the moving complaint, presented in a naive and captivating way, through phrases that express the drama more acute than the world has ever seen, awakening in us emotion, compassion and sacrifice.
History of the Passion of Jesus and the Compassion and Agony of the Virgin. History of Redemption: speeches and appeals expressed in monotonous stanzas that flow with tears.
A song or prayer that will never cease to move and at the same time to console, to fortify souls, who on Good Friday and the Feast of the Virgin of Sorrows, relive the drama of Calvary.
In the last two stanzas, the author appeals to Christ and his Mother: may they give him and all the glory of Paradise.
“Come, O Christ, my hour.
For the Mother, come to me now
The palm of victory”
“When my body stops living
Make my soul receive the glory of paradise. Amen! Hallelujah!
So the fight ends and life triumphs!
The devotion to Nuestra Señora de la Agonía started in Viana de Castelo, Portugal during 1751 with the enthronement of the image of the Virgin in the Chapel of Bom Jesus da Via Sacra, which increased the number of thanksgiving, offerings and ex-votos. The construction of the church began in 1774, already in 1777, the Blessed Sacrament was enthroned with great feasts. Today, the devotion to Our Lady of Agony has been spread to brazil and is starting in Mexico and Philippines.
The Lady of Agony I wanted your look there, To watch, night and day, By the 0s that depart and arrive And who, at risk, sail, Over the waters of the sea; And when the storm roars And the wind blows hard, Upon entering the bar, it is She Who supports and guides them There, from your chapel.
Thick, the sea has come to More… And the women, very distressed, They break with the screams of the pier Seeing their lives, At certain risk of death; The arms lift to the skies And cry your luck, With eyes on the chapel, kneeling, contrite Images of pain, blessed, They pray, return to Her:
My Virgin of Agony Save, Lord, my “man”! Oh, if he lost his life!… The daily bread is gone, Children die of hunger!… And they're all small... It's already ten – apart from the rest! Have pity on my boys... They fit under a basket! All joy belongs to the Father, I reveal your ways… O Lady of Agony, Don't let me - I would die! May they be orphans!…
O Lady of Agony, Says the mother of a fisherman, Like you, I was, one day, Widow, full of pain; In the bitterness of this hour, It was on my chest, Madam, A fruit of my love; It's already today, a little man... Like his father, he lives to fish, Get on that little boat, Almost about to sink! Lady, you were Mother, Like me, of only one child; You suffered like no one else! Your pity was unparalleled; Why did you see your Jesus To die in the arms of the Cross; And there, in that little boat, You see, with death the struggle, A boy… is my little boy! Spare me, Lady, the pain, That you already suffered, one day! Yeah, my son…my love. Don't let him drown, On the great cross of that sea!
I hear a new beauty, With sea-green eyes, Invite, afraid, eyes tired of crying, In copious torrent, That the vacancies will thicken, To say, low, with her: - O vile “Penedo Ladrão”.
Virgin of Agony, I took him in my arms, that the sea could eat it to pieces I promise, madam, From trail, to walk, take you a candle That I have to light it, On your altar.
The sea fell, in a moment; And the little boat capsizing, With spars and broken sails, On board, with so many lives already tired of fighting Against the sea and against the wind, The Lady of Agony, Almost at the end of the day, Bring to port and rescue.
Past that was once a day From this storm, all the people of the company Went to the Church of Agony With valuable promises, take the torn sail By the typhoon's fury; Already wrapped in beautiful ribbons, lightly scented for very beautiful flowers Among which roses glowed And camellias from Japan. And in the most shocking scream Of sincere devotion, Singing the “Blessed” aloud, gratitude enterprise The memory of that day, The candle went to leave Stretched out at the foot of the altar From the Lady of Agony.