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Email a FriendPosted by sarah on Tuesday, Sep 15, 2009 7:22 AM (EDT):
Thank you, Sarah ... beautiful as always. What a way to start my day with the story of grace!
The Weeping Statue
Our Lady of Akita
by Sarah Reinhard in Faith on Tuesday, September 15, 2009 6:00 AM
It seems far-fetched, hard to believe, even imaginary.
The story of the weeping Madonna of Akita interests the storyteller in me, both the girl who used to curl up with a good novel and the mom who spins a yarn on a long car ride.
Sister Agnes
At age 19, Agnes Sasagawa was paralyzed after a botched appendix operation. She spent sixteen years immobile, sent to many different hospitals and clinics for operations and treatments. It was at one of these hospitals that she met the Catholic nurse who taught her the basics of the Catholic faith.
This nurse marked a turning point in Agnes’s health, and as Agnes gradually got better, she also became a Catholic. I wonder if the nurse ever knew of the impact she had on Agnes.
In 1973, Agnes was admitted to the novitiate of the Handmaids of the Holy Eucharist. She was 42 and completely deaf.
The Story of the Statue
On June 12, 1973, shortly after arriving at the convent, Sister Agnes saw a brilliant light shining from the Tabernacle. It happened quite a few times, and she often saw something like smoke around the altar.
Then, on June 28, Sister Agnes had a cross-shaped wound appear on the inside of her left hand. It caused a lot of pain, and on July 5, it began to bleed. On July 6, her guardian angel appeared and told her, “The wounds of Mary are much deeper and more sorrowful than yours. Let us go to pray together in the chapel.”
At the chapel, the angel disappeared, and Agnes had the overwhelming feeling that the statue was coming to life. She heard a beautiful voice, promising that her deafness would be healed and reciting the community prayer.
The next morning, Friday, July 7, the sisters noticed blood on the right hand of the statue and a cut in the shape of a cross. It was a matching wound to the one on Sister Agnes’s hand. Until the wounds disappeared in September, both Sister Agnes and the statue bled every Friday from their palms.
On August 3, a first Friday, the statue gave Sister Agnes another message, encouraging prayer, penance, and courageous sacrifices to appease and soften the Heavenly Father’s anger.
The phenomenon weren’t limited to Sister Agnes. During the evening office of September 29, everyone in the community witnessed a bright light and the body of the statue covered in a perspiration-like moisture.
Near the end of the following May, everyone noticed that the statue’s face, hands, and feet had changed to a darker reddish-brown tone. When the sculptor saw the statue, he was shocked that not only had the visible body parts changed color, but the statue had changed expression as well.
What the statue in Akita is best known for, though, is weeping. It began on January 4, 1975, with the statue weeping three times a day. It continued to weep until September 15, 1981, the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, a total of 101 times.
On October 13, 1981, the statue gave Sister Agnes her final message. She insisted that men must better themselves and repent. She advocated a daily rosary.
She Weeps
There’s something about the image of the weeping statue in Akita that really gets to me. The accounts are pretty factual; it’s only after reflection that the real message sinks in.
That statue was old and dried out. There was no room for moisture. There was no natural explanation.
There was only a woman’s heart. There was a mother in heaven, looking down, trying to reach her children on earth. There was a daughter in Japan, deaf and broken by the standards of the world.
Mary had a reason for her weeping, a purpose. She was weeping for me, for the potential that I’m not using, for the graces I’m ignoring. She was weeping for the wounds I inflict on her Son every day, when I’m rushed and mean, when I’m crucifying Him all over again with my lack of charity.
When Sister Agnes arrived at the Handmaids of the Holy Eucharist, she was deaf. She couldn’t communicate well, and her health had never been great. But on May 30, 1982, her hearing was permanently restored. Today, she’s in good health.
There’s hope for me, however small. In the Akita messages and miracles, I find the embrace of a mother who hasn’t given up on me and who won’t give up on me.
— Sarah Reinhard writes and blogs about Mary, motherhood, and more at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering.
Resources:
- Our Lady of Akita at Mary Pages
- Our Lady of Akita at Catholic Tradition
- Messages from Our Lady of Akita at EWTN
Comments
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Posted by Lenetta @ Nettacow on Tuesday, Sep 15, 2009 4:51 PM (EDT):
Mary’s reason for weeping really grabbed me. I need to write that down and re-read it every day . . .
Posted by Deacon Tom on Tuesday, Sep 15, 2009 5:06 PM (EDT):
One might say that Mary our Mother has many reasons for tears… not the least of which would be the babies which aren’t allowed to live. But then - BVM doesn’t cry all the time—and maybe that’s because of Sarah and Elizabeth and so many others trying to tell the message of Mary, her Son and the Church. Blessings. Thanks. dt
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