On a Wednesday night in late October 2022, I knelt in the small basement chapel at Williams College in Massachusetts, where I was a junior. Sweaty, shaky and beyond nervous, I began to pray the rosary aloud in Spanish. As I gripped the freshly printed paper that contained the translated prayers I had typed out just a few hours earlier, I felt hyper-aware of the handful of people in the chapel with me. We had gathered to pray the rosary as part of a new Spanish prayer ministry we were establishing. That night was the beginning of two years of sometimes full and often solitary sessions with the rosary, always in Spanish.
To my own surprise, I had grown very involved with the Catholic student group on campus. My first year at Williams coincided with the first year of the Covid-19 pandemic, and I had used the pandemic restrictions as an excuse to not attend Mass or other Catholic student group events. But the following year, a friend had invited me to attend the student Mass with him, and I just kept going. Eventually, I found myself as one of the co-presidents of the Catholic student group, and my weekly rosary sessions were an effort to help expand our Spanish language ministry.
We always met on Wednesday nights, so we prayed with the same mysteries every week. The mysteries usually used on Wednesdays are the glorious mysteries, which focus on the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the events that followed.
The glorious mysteries highlight some of the most, well, glorious events that happened after the death of Jesus. When all seems lost for the apostles and Jesus’ followers, we are greeted with his holy Resurrection, his Ascension into Heaven, the Descent of the Holy Spirit Upon the Apostles, the Assumption of Mary and the Coronation of Our Lady as Queen of Heaven. All of these most holy events cannot occur until after the painful death of Jesus Christ.
During the first few weeks of our gathering, I often found it hard to concentrate on the topics prompted by these mysteries. If several students gathered for the rosary, I became nervous about pronouncing the prayers correctly and did not even think about the mysteries beyond announcing them before every decade. And when I was the only person to show up, I often sped through the prayers, still not paying much attention to the mysteries I said aloud. The latter happened more often than I’d like to admit––rushing to get back to homework or friends seemingly more important at the time. But God works in mysterious ways.
As the year progressed, other Spanish speakers who were comfortable with the rosary helped lead the prayers, and we alternated leading the decades. By relying on the leadership and fellowship of others, I found myself more able to focus on the prayers and their meaning in our spiritual lives. During these group-led rosaries I came to experience the fruits of the glorious mysteries.
The fruits of each mystery are listed as follows: faith, hope, wisdom, devotion to Mary and the grace of a happy death. Slowly but surely, I could see these fruits playing out in my own life. In an effort to offer more prayer opportunities for others, I engaged in more prayer myself. Never losing hope that more students would attend, I grew in my own dedication to a life of prayer and my designated time with God. Week after week, I grew in my devotion. I would also like to think God granted me the wisdom and peace of mind that comes with a budding prayer life.
What began as an opportunity to pray the rosary in Spanish blossomed into a ministry that continues now, past my own departure from Williams College. The Wednesday (and in later semesters Tuesday) rosary space became a place for communal mourning, giving thanks and comfort. El Dia de los Muertos, or All Souls’ Day, always welcomed larger crowds of students gathering to pray for loved ones who had gone before us. And on other occasions, friends sought more specific consolations.
On the last Wednesday of my first semester leading the rosary, I considered skipping it. No one else had come the previous week, and I was planning to attend a late-night study group that ended right before the rosary was scheduled to begin. As I internally fought between my exhaustion and what I felt was my religious duty, I received a message from a close friend who was not a weekly rosary attendee. She asked if the rosary would still be happening that night. I said it was.
As I arrived at the chapel where my friend was already waiting for me, it did not take long for her to reveal that her grandmother had passed away earlier that same day. Her family at home had begun praying for her eternal rest, and she felt called to pray the rosary that night as a way of connecting with and praying for her grandmother.
The glorious mysteries we prayed that night offered us the opportunity to reflect on eternal life, and the continuing of life and God’s love after the end of our time on earth. Jesus ascends into heaven, and his impact on our existences has only begun as he continues to watch over us in eternal glory.
The growth of a Catholic ministry may not occur without a few weeks of empty pews and barely attended rosaries. The determination to be present and available for my community was a part of God’s calling for me. But I was not able to fully grow in my own faith and devotion until I was willing to lean on the leadership of my peers and to be consistent with my own prayer life.
In reflecting on these experiences, I reached out to the Catholic chaplain at Williams College, Bridget Power. It was her leadership and guidance that helped kick start the Spanish language ministry initiative, after all. She informed me that two new board members of the Catholic student group have decided to continue leading the weekly rosary in Spanish––meeting on Wednesday nights this fall semester. I pray they find comfort in the never-ending glory of Jesus present every time they gather to pray together.
