“For godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation, not to be regretted; but the sorrow of the world produces death.” (2 Cor 7:10)
Yesterday evening in Rome, on the eve of this Saturday of the Deceased, I was sitting in the courtyard of the basilica of St. Agnes, a 13-year-old martyred for her faith in the 4th century, whose relics are in this basilica. And I observed a steady stream of women, one by one, coming into the courtyard to pray and/or light a candle in front of the statue of the Mother of God, at the place you see in this photo. There was a kind of sorrow in the air, which wasn’t a morbid kind of sorrow, but the kind of lamentation that’s in the air during Lent; the kind that women might bring to a place where the relics of St. Agnes rest, who was executed after being dragged naked through the streets to a brothel (where she was probably raped), and where a statue of the long-suffering (in her own lifetime) Mother of God looks over the courtyard.
On my way home, I was thinking about the above-quoted words of St. Paul. What would the not-godly sorrow be, the “sorrow of the world” that “produces death”? It’s the sorrow human beings feel for losing what we are meant to lose, in order that we may gain eternal life. It’s the sorrow over our ageing process, which is a sign that we’re closer to parting from this world, which is what our soul desires, but our body resists. It’s the sorrow over losing the friend or friends we used to have, because either they or we have moved on, as God willed it to be, either because they died, or some other circumstances beyond our control. It’s the sorrow over the world not bringing us what we expected, but what God brought us instead, by His loving providence.
Thank You, Lord, for last evening in this holy city. What is usually known as “Adam’s lament,” I saw as “Eve’s lament,” because it happened only to be women, who passed by this place where I was sitting; and there was St. Agnes and the Theotokos, looking over us, as women who had already experienced the godly sorrow that led to salvation, after many trials. By their prayers, dear God, help us, save us, and keep us by Your grace, throughout the joy-creating sorrow of our Lenten journey.





