Photo provided by Maria Kangapadan.
“Mom, Dad, was I named after St. Maria Goretti?”
I remember eagerly asking my parents that question after Sunday school. I had just learned about St. Maria Goretti, and I was captivated by her story. I admired her courage after she was brutally attacked by someone she knew, and I was especially struck by her extraordinary forgiveness and her desire to see her attacker in Heaven one day. If I had been named after her, I would have been the coolest kid in my parish!
Much to my disappointment, my parents told me I had not been named after St. Maria Goretti. Instead, I was named after Our Lady. As a little girl whose imagination was shaped by Barbies and Disney Princesses, I longed for a heroic saint I could relate to in age. To me, Mary was simply Jesus’s mother, someone I closely associated with my own mom. I had heard about the Mother of God my whole life, but I had never grasped the beauty of her fiat (yes) or her quiet role in salvation history.
As I grew older, my relationship with Mary deepened. I am no longer disappointed that I was named after her. Instead, I consider it one of the sweetest gifts I’ve received. When I came to the University of Notre Dame as a college freshman, moving across the world meant leaving my own mother behind in India, and in seasons of homesickness, my name became a gentle reminder that I could always turn to the Mother whose name I bear. It was through Our Lady of Sorrows, however, that I came to know her most deeply.
Last year, on the Solemnity of Our Lady of Sorrows, our office began the day with Mass at one of the Holy Cross parishes in South Bend. After spending the morning with the parish and school community, I began the drive back to the office. Before I arrived, my brand new car was involved in a serious collision and was declared a total loss, though I walked away unscathed. Not wanting to worry my mom, who was likely asleep on the other side of the world, I turned to Our Lady for comfort as I was evaluated at the hospital.
Looking back, I do not think it was a coincidence that the accident happened on the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows. She showed me how she is gently leading me into deeper communion with her Son through her own sorrows. As I prayed with the Seven Sorrows, I began to see that Mary’s suffering was never an end in itself. Each sorrow drew her closer to Christ, and through her, I learned to bring my own crosses to Him. Through her pierced heart, she has shown me that our deepest sorrows need not separate us from Christ. Instead, when entrusted to Him through His mother, they can become a path to deeper union with Him.
Join the Holy Cross Mission Center in praying the Novena to Our Lady of Sorrows, written by Rev. Tim Weed, C.S.C., beginning on September 7, 2026, and ending on September 15, 2026, the Solemnity of Our Lady of Sorrows.
Provided by Maria Kangapadan, and the Holy Cross Mission Center, July 2026.
