Mary Triptych

Images © 2011 Gregory Watson

Gouache on Paper. 5" x 7"

This is a three-part work done originally for a school project, where we had to represent the same image in three different colour schemes (monochrome, analogous, and split complementary). The three images together tell the story of conversion to Jesus Christ through His Mother, Mary.

"Our Lady of Sorrows" (monochrome blue)

The deep blues represent Mary at the foot of the Cross, as the "sword of sorrow" (cf. Luke 2:35) pierced her heart as her Son died for our sins. Her sorrow should lead us to our own sorrow for sin, and a desire for repentance.

"Refuge of Sinners" (analogous colours, blue-purple through red-orange)

Purple is the Church's liturgical colour signifying repentance, and red signifies the Blood of Christ shed for our sins that make forgiveness possible. Mary is referred to as the "refuge of sinners" because she desires our repentance and through her prayers leads us back to Jesus.

"Queen of Peace" (split complementary colours, Red, blue-green, yellow-green)

The greens evoke a peaceful feeling in this image, and remind us of the peace we find in union with Christ, through the Blood He shed for us (signified by the red). Mary's constant instruction to us now, as it was at the Wedding of Cana, to "Do whatever He tells you" (John 2:5), is the sure road to Peace.


Please email me at doubting-thomist @ hotmail . com or leave a comment here if you'd like to order any of the following:

• Set of 3 original paintings in a single frame (as pictured above): $100 (CAD)
  
  
• Set of 3 high quality giclée prints in a single frame (as pictured above): $40 (CAD)
  
  
• Any individual image (5" x 7") high quality giclée print (framed): $10 (CAD)
  
  
• Any individual image (5" x 7") high quality giclée print (unframed): $7
  (set of 3 unframed: $15) (CAD)
  
  
• Image on 4¼" x 5½" Greeting Card (blank): $1.50 (CAD)

Art Show and Price Adjustments

I had an art show this weekend. Sorry I didn't advertise it here--I've just been incredibly busy with a whole lot of craziness in my life this summer. You might get a post about all of that, if you're lucky! Anyway, as I prepared for the show and the pricing, I realised that the prices for prints on this blog are considerably higher than they were supposed to be! As such, I'll be adjusting those prices in the next day or so. My apologies for the error. As well, in the next week or so, I'll be adding new images to the blog--so if you were at the show and don't see something you saw there, it'll be up soon. And if you weren't, well, dear reader, you're in for a visual treat. Stay tuned!

What I Saw in Haiti: Chapter 7

Waaay Outside My Comfort Zone

I figure it's about time we got back to our ongoing serial adventure of my time in Haiti. Sorry for the hiatus. May was a busy month, and I was trying to get an article on the Eucharist written over at Barque of Peter which ended up taking all of June. In any event, I'm offering this particular chapter in loving memory of Père Ronal Fleurvil, the priest with whom we stayed down in Haiti. He died on Sunday, May 1, the Feast of Divine Mercy, after a virus he had contracted attacked his heart. May God welcome him into His glorious kingdom.

In the last chapter, I related our experience of Mass in Haiti, and the beautiful encounter with God and with the Haitian culture. It was for me, perhaps, the highlight of my trip to Beau-Sejour. On the other hand, what followed afterward struck mortal terror into the hearts of myself and at least a couple of the other members of the team. I kid you not that even after seeing 18-year-old security guards wielding rifles as big as they were, and playing chicken with UN tanks on the streets of Port-au-Prince; after surviving the harrowing drive up the mountain, and collapsing of heat exhaustion during the ensuing climb, this was the scariest part of our trip--at least for an introvert such as myself!

When we made our preparations and packed our luggage for Haiti, of the 10 bags that Air Canada let us bring down with us, roughly 8 of those bags were gifts for the Haitian people--especially the children. We brought schoolbags, shoes, clothes, toiletries, and toys in order to bless the people of this impoverished nation. The plan, such as it was, was to distribute these gifts after the Sunday Mass, when all the villagers would be in one central location. As I said, that was the plan. In Haiti, we learned things very seldom go according to plan.

Despite the fact that we were instructed to keep our gifts out of sight until Sunday afternoon, a couple members of our team felt that they couldn't wait once they'd seen the poverty of the people of Beau-Sejour. It's hard to fault a person for being too compassionate and generous, but this impromptu giving away of shoes did have unfortunate consequences. The first was that suddenly everyone knew we had shoes, and where they were. Our tent was suddenly the local hot spot. This led to the next consequence--a sudden shortage of shoes. It also led to another shortage--one of my teammates' personal property also went missing.

There is a short prayer that Our Lady taught the three children of Fatima, Portugal, to pray at the end of every decade of the Rosary. Known as the "Fatima Prayer", it says simply, "O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of Thy mercy." This principle of trust, letting Jesus dispense His mercy to those whom He knows need it most, and not to those we think are more deserving, found human expression in our generosity in Haiti, and to Père Ronal's wisdom. For Père Ronal was more than just the parish priest in this community. The late Archbishop of Port-au-Prince once said that a priest in Beau-Sejour had to be a 4x4 Priest--i.e., made of sturdy stuff. But the four dimensions of Père Ronal's ministry could be summed up by Priest, Mayor, Sheriff, and Judge. He was involved in every aspect of the community, and greatly loved and respected by the people. He knew who was most in need of material blessing better than we did, just as Our Lord knows who is most in need of spiritual blessing more than we do. And if it hadn't been for Père Ronal, I sincerely don't think we would have gotten through that afternoon.

At the end of Mass, Père Ronal announced that the missionaries had gifts to give to the community, and that they were to gather outside of his rectory. And so they did. It was as if the whole village turned out en masse, all very eager to receive from their Canadian friends. Of course, we still had to set up and get organised, since we'd each brought different things and weren't really sure what each other had brought. Moreover, we weren't sure who was in most need of what--or, for that matter, to whom we had already given what. And while we were still setting up, people were already trying to stake their claim.

Now, a bit about me--I can tend to be rather OCD. While I might not always be a neat-freak, or seem like the most organised sort of person, I do have a system--and I rather need that system. And I didn't have much of a chance to establish a system, or to discover what system might already be in place. So I felt immediately overwhelmed and out of place. The second thing you need to know, is that I'm very much an introvert. Not entirely shy, per se, but definitely not drawing strength from being with people. The end result was feeling entirely freaked out. Not "scary movie" freaking out. I mean, overwhelmed, hyperventilating, full-on fight-or-flight response! And I wasn't alone. One of my teammates turned to me and point blank told me, "I can't do this! I can't do this! I gotta get outta here!"

But then, Père Ronal stepped in to take control and save the day. With several loud shouts of "Alé! Alé!" (Go! in Creole), and a few swipes of a bamboo switch (behaviour, of course, which we back home in Canada would find utterly appalling, but which the Haitians apparently felt to be run-of-the-mill), he had the madding crowd mostly under control. We did have to deal with the occasional "repeat customer" who made off with an extra shirt or toy, but by and large, the afternoon went very quickly, with many a happy Haitian, and five very tired, wide-eyed, post-adrenaline-rush pilgrims, grateful for the shelter of Père Ronal's rectory, from the daily afternoon rain which finally prompted the villagers to return home, so we could retreat to good food and Prestige beer, as Père Ronal taught us to play Haitian Poker.

Haitian Poker is somewhat similar to Texas Holdem, except that you get a hand of three cards, and a flop of two. There's no turn or river, so you get those five cards to make the best hand from. It's rather simple, but honestly, the most entertaining aspect of it was watching Père Ronal's attempts at bluffing. The man was like a great big child, with that expression of gleeful pride at thinking himself clever for having pulled one over on one of us! Père Ronal was truly a man for all seasons. He was a 4x4 Priest. And we will miss him dearly.

Coming up next, a profoundly life-shaping experience, as well as getting down to work, and meeting the local wildlife.

Why I love Jesus+5+meme

Owen Swain tagged me in this, so here I go.

"The rules" say, "Those tagged will share 5 things they 'love' about Jesus / Or why they love Jesus. Those tagged will tag 5 other bloggers. Those tagged will provide a link in the comments section here with their name so that others can read them."

It's an interestingly difficult question to answer, "Why I love Jesus?" I suppose it's akin to asking me why I love my wife, and telling me to limit my response to five points. How does one accurately convey the fullness of their love, and the full reasons for their love, in this manner? It will, I think, either come across as somewhat of an abstract theological discourse or pious "Sunday School" cliché, or else sound a lot like "These are five things that Jesus has done for me that I particularly happen to like." One seems impersonal, while the other seems somehow selfish. So faced with these limitations (whether limitations of reality, or just of my own writing ability), I will attempt to answer Why I love Jesus. in the process, maybe, you'll get to know the guy behind the blog a little better.

I love Jesus because He first loved me.

Right off the bat, I begin with one of those clichés. The thing about clichés, though, is that they usually become clichés precisely because they're true. The only reason that any of us could love Jesus is precisely because He loved us first. His love for us is what prompted Him to come to us and dwell among us. It's what prompted Him to become just a little baby, to make Himself loveable. It's what led Him to teach us about the Father, to make us understand Him. It's what drove Him to the Cross, to prove His love for us. It's what brought about the Resurrection, that He would not be separated from us. If He had not loved me first, I would not have known Him to love Him.

I love Jesus because He is always ready to forgive.

Having just celebrated Divine Mercy Sunday (May 1st of this year), I am reminded again of the depth of the mercy of Jesus. No matter how much I turn my back on Him, no matter how often I reject His grace, no matter how stubbornly I choose to go my own way, He gently calls me back to Him. And when I feel that there's no way He'd ever take me back, He assures me that He will. Moreover, through His Church, He's given me a concrete way of knowing this with certainty. Even if and when I feel that He could never forgive me, through the Sacrament of Confession which He has given His Church, I can actually hear Him physically tell me those words, spoken through His priest, "I absolve you of your sins."

As often as I'm willing to humble myself and turn to Him, He is waiting for me with open arms to welcome me home.

I love Jesus because He makes Himself Really Present to me.

Jesus Himself desires intimacy with me, with all of us, and so is always present to us, waiting for me to turn to Him and be with Him. Ever-present, He is never more than a thought or a sigh away, listening and acting. Even when I do not perceive Him, He has guaranteed His presence--and this is nowhere more exemplified than in the Holy Eucharist, in which He is bodily Present under the signs of bread and wine. Before the Blessed Sacrament, I can sit in wonder of the humble God who desires me, and in Communion I take Him into myself and am united to Him. "I look at Jesus, and He looks back at me."

I love Jesus because He has given me a Family.

It's been taking me a while to get around to writing this. I started it on April 25th, and immediately afterward got pretty busy with Easter, as well as my wife's birthday and my own, and mother's day. Yesterday happened to be my mom's birthday, as well, so that's kept us busy. May's just a busy time. But business is a typical experience with family. As I think about the family that Jesus has given to me, I recognise that that family exists on several levels, and ironically, none of them are biological.

As I've said elsewhere on this blog, I'm adopted. For whatever reason, my biological mother felt that she was incapable of raising me, and so I was given to my adoptive parents, who raised me as their own son--and truly, I am. All through my life I've seen the hand of Jesus in this, as they raised me to know and to love Him. In that knowing and loving Jesus, I was adopted once more, into His family, in which He is my Older Brother, and His Father becomes my Father, and the rest of His brothers and sisters, the Church, become my brothers and sisters as well, and His Mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary, becomes my spiritual Mother, too. Through this Church, I received the Sacrament of Matrimony through marrying my wife, and so began an entirely new family within the family of God.

Since beginning this article, though, I discovered that, once more, a biological family seems not to be in God's plan for my wife and me. Outside of miraculous intervention (which I'm not ruling out!), I find that I am incapable of producing children. And yet, as my priest reminded me, Jesus promised in the Gospel that those who give up family for the sake of the Kingdom will receive a hundredfold in return. Despite the crushing disappointment, I choose to love and to trust Him, and I offer up that very pain and disappointment to Him, and wait in hopeful anticipation of the Family that He has yet to give me--whatever form that may take.

It's not easy--but then, love never is.

I love Jesus because He is good to me.

Now this final reason seems, perhaps, a little odd coming off of the revelation in the last reason. For a couple who wants children to the degree that my wife and I do, the discovery that this is apparently not possible doesn't seem like a "good" thing that Jesus has done to us. Yet, when I look over my life, from the blessing of being adopted, to the love and support of a great family and friends, to my general good health, and on and on, how can I deny that God has been good to me in the conventional sense? But even more so, through the eyes of faith, I recognise the goodness of God even in my hurt and pain. A saint once said that there are three primary graces that Jesus gives to us: the grace of Conversion, by which we come to know Him; the grace of Sanctification, by which we become like Him; and the grace of Suffering, which unites us with Him. For we truly come to know our Suffering Saviour more intimately, and are more fully united to Him, in our own suffering, provided that we offer that suffering up to Him. "And we know," says St. Paul, "that all things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose" (Rom. 8:28). It sounds like another cliché, perhaps, until you find yourself in that particular "thing" that at first glance seems like it's not good for you at all.

1 Thessalonians 5:18 says, "And for all things give thanks; this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus" (NJB). Growing up Pentecostal, I heard all sorts of takes on this verse (which some other translations render "Give thanks in all circumstances..."), supposing it to mean that we're always to be grateful to God, no matter what's happening, but not necessarily be thankful for what's happening. And yet, due to the Church's teaching of Redemptive Suffering, that even the "bad" things in our lives can be offered up to God in order to bring about great results in our own souls, in our families, or in the world as a whole, we truly can give God thanks for all things. This is the ultimate expression of faithful surrender, of hopeful trust, and of absolute love of Jesus Christ.

"O my Jesus, I offer my suffering for love of You, for the conversion of poor sinners, and in reparation for offences against the Immaculate Heart of Mary."

So now I have to tag 5 people. I'll give my good friend Joey Goodwin something to blog about. Theophilus, a recent convert and expert in philosophy, gets a shout out. My homeboy and son in the faith, Eric can have a writing challenge, too, for his tragically outdated blog. Same with Hidden One. Finally, just for being a thorn in my side so often, I'm going to let Kane kick against the goads of this meme, too.

God bless,
Gregory

A Reader Asks... About the Miraculous Medal

So when I title this post "A Reader Asks...", it's to include it in that particular part of the blog. But this particular reader deserves special notice, because she happens also to be my lovely wife, Melissa!


For a while now, I've worn what's known colloquially as the "Miraculous Medal." Its official title is the Medal of Mary Immaculate, which she instructed to have made in a series of apparitions to St. Catherine Labouré in 1830. Our Lady promised St. Catherine that the wearer would receive blessings if they wore this medal, especially around their neck. Due to the many miracles reported by those who have worn it throughout history, it was affectionately referred to as "the Miraculous Medal." I've derived some benefit from the medal myself, and so I try to spread devotion to it when I can--starting with encouraging Melissa to wear it. She'd been resistant for a while, because she was concerned about being superstitious, but the other day she had begun to wear it. That's what prompted her question, which she posted on my Facebook wall. She wrote:

Okay I have a question for you and I thought I'd post it instead of just asking you so that other people could possibly see it and know the answer too! So you were very happy with me wearing the Miraculous Medal last night that I found in my drawer like the one you wear all the time. What I'm wondering is whether it isn't superstitious to believe that wearing this medal will bring you graces or miracles like it says in the pamphlet. I know it's a symbol of faith, like someone might wear a cross or crucifix but they don't necessarily believe that wearing it will bring them anything, so yeah I'm confuzzled.

In order to fully answer this question, we'll have to look at what the Church teaches about "sacramentals" (of which the Miraculous Medal is one), and at what "superstition" is. To help us, we'll examine the Catechism of the Catholic Church and Sacred Scripture. Hopefully by understanding sacramentals and superstition, we'll understand the difference and be able to avoid falling into the latter, which goes beyond simply being silly to actually being sinful.

"Sacramentals", such as the Miraculous Medal, are objects or actions used to help aid us in devotion and to dispose us to receiving God's grace. However, they do nothing in and of themselves, but only because of the prayer of the Church and our internal cooperation which disposes us toward the graces available in the sacraments. According to the Catechism,

These are sacred signs which bear a resemblance to the sacraments. They signify effects, particularly of a spiritual nature, which are obtained through the intercession of the Church. By them men are disposed to receive the chief effect of the sacraments, and various occasions in life are rendered holy. (#1667)

In other words, the Miraculous Medal, as a symbol of our faith, is something that can increase our faith by constantly reminding us of our faith and disposing us to receiving the Sacraments of the Church, leading us to greater prayer and intimacy with God. When Our Lady appeared to St. Catherine Labouré and instructed her to have the Miraculous Medal made, she promised that "those who wear it, especially around the neck, will receive great graces." That is, the Blessed Virgin Mary didn't promise that wearing the Miraculous Medal would automatically gain people miracles in some sort of "name-it-and-claim-it fashion", but rather that

• a) wearing it would signify our faith in and our obedience to her, and by extension, to Jesus Himself (since, of course, one cannot be obedient to her without being obedient to Him--cf. John 2:5. This is itself highlighted by the monogram on the back of the medal--an M surmounted by a Cross, and by the presence of both the Immaculate Heart of Mary and the Sacred Heart of Jesus).
• b) Such obedience itself merits graces.
• c) Since the medal calls us to prayer--particularly asking Mary, who is so close to Jesus, to pray for us--such prayers are powerful and effective (cf. James 5:17).

In sum, the medal calls us to obedience and prayer, and disposes us to love Jesus and His Mother more. If we do that, even without the medal, we will receive great graces. How much more does the medal, given to us by Mary herself, inspire such devotion in our hearts, which in turn leads to greater grace, faith, and perhaps, even miraculous interventions?

A superstition, on the other hand, is a belief that a particular action or item in and of itself provides the "luck" or blessing or miracle independent from God or our faith or any such thing. It is actually contrary to religion, which is why the Church condemns superstition. If we treat the Miraculous Medal, or any other sacramental, in such a manner, then it indeed does become superstitious and sinful. In paragraph 2111, the Catechism says,

Superstition is the deviation of religious feeling and of the practices this feeling imposes. It can even affect the worship we offer the true God, e.g., when one attributes an importance in some way magical to certain practices otherwise lawful or necessary. To attribute the efficacy of prayers or of sacramental signs to their mere external performance, apart from the interior dispositions that they demand, is to fall into superstition.

We can see this occur in Scripture. In the Book of Numbers, the Israelites get up to their old grumblings, and God punishes them wtih a bunch of poisonous snakes. When they repent, God commands Moses to build a bronze serpent on a pole, which, when lifted up, would cure the Israelites of the poisonous bites, if only they would look at the serpent. Obviously, God's not commanding idolatry--He doesn't want them to worship the image, but the image, as a sacramental, was to dispose them to receive the grace of God's healing if they would respond in faith, obedience, and prayer (cf. Num 21:4-9).

However, centuries after the events of the wilderness, the Israelites had kept the statue, and even gone so far as to give it a name, and treat it as if it were itself a god or a magical charm. This is why, in 2 Kings 18:4, when King Hezekiah takes the throne and seeks to serve God, one of the first things that he does is to destroy the bronze serpent. We see then how, unfortunately, a sacramental given by God Himself devolved into a superstitious and idolatrous practice.

There is a difference between a good and lawful practice of wearing a Miraculous Medal and trusting in Our Lady's prayers for us to grant us graces, and trusting in the medal itself or in the very act of wearing it to grant us those same graces or using it as a "good luck charm" to have a better life.

O Mary, conceived without sin,
pray for us who have recourse to thee.
--The prayer on the Miraculous Medal.

God bless.

A Reader Asks... For Even More Notes on a Scandal

Alright, it's time to catch up on some reader questions, as well as post my last comment on the Sex Abuse Scandals in the Church.

Back when all the hullaballoo hit the media regarding the sex abuse problem in Ireland (January 2011, specifically), the media had reported that the Irish bishops had received orders from the Vatican that actually instructed them to hide the problem. Kane, a dear friend and frequent reader (and occasional thorn in my side), emailed me a link to one such article and asked, "How does this sort of information affect your confidence in Catholic authority?"

I replied to him with three points, which I have reproduced below. The first is an expression of distrust in the mainstream media's ability to report objectively on Catholic subjects; the second was to actually offer a brief apologetic on the specific case; and finally, I gave a direct answer to his question. His question was not about bad Irish priests or Vatican cover-ups, so much as it was about how these things affect me, personally. So I below take the opportunity to express my faith in the Church--not because I think its leaders are all peachy models of virtue, but because the authority of the Catholic Church simply isn't about them. Read on--and be sure to click the links as they come up, to provide the context for my statements.

The first thing to note about this situation is, frankly, that I have a genuine and sincere difficulty with taking anything that the mainstream media writes regarding religion in general and the Catholic Church in particular at face value. It has demonstrated time and again that it either can not or will not accurately report the facts of the case. This has been amply demonstrated by the hubbub surrounding the Pope's booklength interview with Peter Seewald, and the media's horribly unprofessional twisting of Benedict's comments regarding condoms, as well as by a recent article I read about a lawyer's report that about half of the allegations of priestly sexual abuse are completely fraudulent. This is further commensurated by the fact that the article you linked me to shows only a low-resolution, illegible image of the letter purportedly from the Vatican and allegedly instructing Irish bishops to cover up the priestly scandal, about which we are left to depend on the journalist's firm grasp of Catholic policy. If that's the only article you read on it, you must admit that you didn't get the whole story.

Second, in light of the fact that, if Steier's assertions are correct (second link, above), that so many allegations are indeed baseless and fraudulent, then irreparable damage is being done to good, faithful, virtuous clergy, particularly if mandatory reporting of allegations were to be instituted. I'm not saying these things shouldn't be reported--but then, the document in question isn't either. If you actually read the letter, rather than the media's interpretation of it, it only says that the norms of Canon Law must be followed meticulously in each case, specifically so that no priest can have recourse against the Church through some legal loophole, and the Apostolic Nuncio expressed particular concern with the idea of mandatory reporting of allegations. The stress seems to be laid on "mandatory" rather than "reporting", and says that further concrete directives would be forthcoming (which seemed to have happened in 2001). As such, I do definitely think that Vatican spokesman Fr. Federico Lombardi is completely sincere and accurate in stating that this document has been grossly misunderstood by the media.

Finally, and most importantly, even if we acknowledge that in many cases the Church hierarchy seriously dropped the ball on many aspects of the sex abuse crisis, I am not sure why it would "affect my confidence in Catholic authority." My confidence in the Church has nothing whatsoever to do with how they conduct themselves in a crisis, or their personal moral failings, or any such thing. I am as confident in their leadership as I am confident in the leadership of any other particular person who has some authority over me. What I have utmost confidence in, when it comes to Catholicism, is something that particular members of the hierarchy, even the pope himself, has no effect on whatsoever in terms of dealing with such situations. My confident faith simply is that when the Pope or the College of Bishops intends to define a matter of doctrine pertaining to faith or morals as being binding on all Catholics, that such a doctrinal definition will be free from error. This is not confidence in the hierarchy of the Catholic Church per se, but confidence in Christ Jesus, that he will keep His promise that the Church will never be destroyed, but that the Holy Spirit will guide us into all truth--the sins, bungling, and outright and utter failures of those in charge notwithstanding.

The Church, after all, has always been a mix of good and bad--even its leaders. Any student of history knows that many popes themselves have been terrible scoundrels (to say the least). But despite the world's best attempts to destroy the Church, and our own best attempts to sabotage it from within, the Barque of Peter continues to sail on, not because we're oh-so-great, but because Jesus Christ is.

We should keep this sure and blessed hope in mind as we journey through Lent. Easter is the time of Christ's resurrection, but it is also the time of the most virulent attempts by the media to undermine the Church He founded. When we know Him in Whom we have believed, and stay close to Him, He will make sure we are not shaken.

God bless,
Gregory
Feast of the Annunciation

More "Notes on a Scandal"

His Excellency, Timothy Dolan, Archbishop of New York, recently wrote a pithy anecdote about an encounter with an angry man at an airport (linked in the title of this post, and below). With honesty and humility, he ponders the sex abuse crisis in the Church, and in so doing, re-presents both the spirit and the facts that I posted in my previous article, Notes on a Scandal.

It pains me, as well as him, to see the damage done to both Catholics and non-Catholics alike--not only by the priests who have abused children, but by how the media has subsequently portrayed the state of things in the Church. The facts are bad enough. The misconceptions and the lies have compounded the problem.

Please read Abp. Dolan's thought-provoking article, and offer a prayer for the victims of abuse, for the priests--both those who perpetrated the crimes, and those good and holy men who form the much larger majority, and pray for those who have been scandalised, that they would find the truth and the healing they need.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the our of our death.
Amen.