Simple in Design, but Rich in Meaning
A little drawstring pouch, once a bright white felt, embossed with the crest of the Knights of Columbus...now yellowed with age, dulled and stained with other colors of things it has touched over the years, worn with time and use, so much so that the KoC crest is no longer visible. Inside, a string of small clear beads held together in a pattern by an equally tiny links of a metal chain (slightly tarnished but still strong and intact), held together in a loop by the same crest. On the other side of that crest is the Queen of Heaven with her crown of twelve stars, and at the other end of a smaller segment of beads and chain, is where this whole work of art--as with everything in this world--begins and ends: the Cross. Specifically, the Crucifix, the most important and recognizable symbol of the Catholic faith.
I was about ten years old when my grandfather, himself a Knight of Columbus at the time, gave me this rosary. Two others have come to join it in the pouch, both smaller finger rosaries: one of black, white, and blue string, and the other of rosewood beads, both from retreats I attended as a student. I've collected a handful of rosaries over the years, but the three in that little pouch hold the most significance and sentimental value for me...the KoC rosary even more so since two years ago.
My great-grandmother, a devout Catholic named Lillian, died in January 2008. I have been blessed enough to have my grandparents on both sides of the family still alive and living in the same county where I grew up, so they have been a big part of my life, and so was Lillian. She was my dad's grandmother, a kind of matriarch to the Catholic side of our family. Until she developed Alzheimer's disease within the last five years or so of her life, I had never known her to miss a Mass (and she was already in her mid-eighties when she had to retire to a nursing home). She was a big influence on my faith, with her constant prayer and deep sense of reverence. I remember praying the rosary with her, going to Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, listening to her voice--that New York accent still strong from growing up in Queens, gravelly with age but full of life, humor, and wisdom--as she taught us about the faith.
When Grandma died two years ago, I came home from college for her viewing and funeral. Upon arrival at the viewing, we realized we had forgotten her rosary to place in her hands. So I offered mine in its stead: the KoC rosary that PopPop had given me and that I had held when we all used to pray it together. When I got it back after the viewing and went back to school after the funeral, I started carrying that little pouch with me all the time in my purse. And I still do. It has become a way for me to keep my faith close, as well as Grandma's memory.
The other two rosaries hold dear memories for me, too. The string rosary came from the first Encounter with Christ retreat that I went on in college, in February 2007, a gift from the leadership team for all of us participants. EWC is such a special experience that there are really no words to even adequately describe it; you just have to go up to that wonderful place in the Blue Ridge mountains and experience it for yourself, because no one's Encounter is ever the same as another's. The other rosary, the one with beads of rosewood, came another first: my first time at Catholic HEART Workcamp in high school. It was July 2003, and along with teens from as far away as Wisconsin, I spent a week in retreat and community service. There I first met someone who has become one of my best friends: a boy from New York named Matt. We don't get to see each other as often as we would like, but we talk and laugh as if we were still back there in New Jersey, and our faith and memories remain. The rosary beads still retain their sweet scent, and when I hold them in meditation during Mass, I breathe it in and remember everything.
I've been thinking about all these things on this, the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. All these things and more--not the least of which is Our Lady herself, but I'm saving her for a whole other post--have contributed to this special connection I have to the rosary. Some don't understand why Catholics keep this practice, citing Jesus' condemnation of "vain repetitions" (Matthew 6:7, KJV). But it's a kind of meditation, a comfort, and if you really believe the words you're saying, then the repetitions are anything but vain or pointless. The rosary is a string of beads in a patterned circle, simple in design, but so rich in meaning. For me, it is a form of prayer, a comfort, a chain of memories, a link to the past, and a tangible reminder of my faith in God, in a tradition that feels like home.
I was about ten years old when my grandfather, himself a Knight of Columbus at the time, gave me this rosary. Two others have come to join it in the pouch, both smaller finger rosaries: one of black, white, and blue string, and the other of rosewood beads, both from retreats I attended as a student. I've collected a handful of rosaries over the years, but the three in that little pouch hold the most significance and sentimental value for me...the KoC rosary even more so since two years ago.
My great-grandmother, a devout Catholic named Lillian, died in January 2008. I have been blessed enough to have my grandparents on both sides of the family still alive and living in the same county where I grew up, so they have been a big part of my life, and so was Lillian. She was my dad's grandmother, a kind of matriarch to the Catholic side of our family. Until she developed Alzheimer's disease within the last five years or so of her life, I had never known her to miss a Mass (and she was already in her mid-eighties when she had to retire to a nursing home). She was a big influence on my faith, with her constant prayer and deep sense of reverence. I remember praying the rosary with her, going to Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, listening to her voice--that New York accent still strong from growing up in Queens, gravelly with age but full of life, humor, and wisdom--as she taught us about the faith.
When Grandma died two years ago, I came home from college for her viewing and funeral. Upon arrival at the viewing, we realized we had forgotten her rosary to place in her hands. So I offered mine in its stead: the KoC rosary that PopPop had given me and that I had held when we all used to pray it together. When I got it back after the viewing and went back to school after the funeral, I started carrying that little pouch with me all the time in my purse. And I still do. It has become a way for me to keep my faith close, as well as Grandma's memory.
The other two rosaries hold dear memories for me, too. The string rosary came from the first Encounter with Christ retreat that I went on in college, in February 2007, a gift from the leadership team for all of us participants. EWC is such a special experience that there are really no words to even adequately describe it; you just have to go up to that wonderful place in the Blue Ridge mountains and experience it for yourself, because no one's Encounter is ever the same as another's. The other rosary, the one with beads of rosewood, came another first: my first time at Catholic HEART Workcamp in high school. It was July 2003, and along with teens from as far away as Wisconsin, I spent a week in retreat and community service. There I first met someone who has become one of my best friends: a boy from New York named Matt. We don't get to see each other as often as we would like, but we talk and laugh as if we were still back there in New Jersey, and our faith and memories remain. The rosary beads still retain their sweet scent, and when I hold them in meditation during Mass, I breathe it in and remember everything.
I've been thinking about all these things on this, the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. All these things and more--not the least of which is Our Lady herself, but I'm saving her for a whole other post--have contributed to this special connection I have to the rosary. Some don't understand why Catholics keep this practice, citing Jesus' condemnation of "vain repetitions" (Matthew 6:7, KJV). But it's a kind of meditation, a comfort, and if you really believe the words you're saying, then the repetitions are anything but vain or pointless. The rosary is a string of beads in a patterned circle, simple in design, but so rich in meaning. For me, it is a form of prayer, a comfort, a chain of memories, a link to the past, and a tangible reminder of my faith in God, in a tradition that feels like home.
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