The Sorrow That Began at Bethlehem

Fr. Scott Haynes

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him up in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger.”— Luke 2:7

Alice von Hildebrand once offered Father Benedict Groeschel a striking way of contemplating the mystery of Bethlehem. The Blessed Virgin did not suffer the ordinary physical pains of childbirth when she brought forth the Son of God, yet this did not mean that the Nativity was without sorrow for His Mother. Rather, von Hildebrand suggested that another and perhaps more profound kind of suffering began at that moment. For nine months Mary had carried Jesus beneath her heart, enclosed within the sanctuary of her virginal body, where she could shelter and protect Him as she would never again be able to do once He entered the world.¹

This insight is beautifully consistent with von Hildebrand’s published reflections on the Blessed Virgin. Writing elsewhere about Mary, she observed that “her virginal body became a sacred temple which sheltered Jesus for nine months.”² Those words allow us to enter more deeply into the hidden mystery of the Incarnation. The eternal Son of the Father, whom heaven and earth cannot contain, chose to dwell within Mary, receiving His human flesh from her and resting beneath the beating of her heart. Within that living sanctuary no Herod could reach Him, no soldier could strike Him, no unbeliever could mock Him, and no hand could be raised against Him. For those nine mysterious months, Mary carried within herself the Savior of the world and guarded Him within a sanctuary fashioned not of stone but of her own immaculate flesh.

The Church’s ancient teaching about the miraculous Nativity makes von Hildebrand’s meditation even more beautiful. Mary was not merely a virgin before conceiving Christ; she remained a virgin in giving Him birth and after His birth, so that her perpetual virginity belongs to the mystery of the Incarnation itself. Saint Anthony of Padua emphasized that Mary retained the strength of her virginity in both the conception and Nativity of the Savior, declaring that she “remained a virgin before the birth and in the birth.”³ Elsewhere, following the ancient interpretation of Ezekiel’s closed gate, he teaches the continuing inviolability of the Virgin after the birth, thereby situating himself firmly within the Church’s confession of Mary as ever Virgin.

The Roman Catechism, promulgated under Saint Pius V following the Council of Trent, gives us one of the most luminous images by which to contemplate this mystery. Just as the rays of the sun penetrate glass without breaking or injuring it, the Catechism teaches, so Christ came forth from the womb of His Mother without diminishing her virginal integrity. The comparison does not attempt to explain by natural processes a mystery that transcends nature; rather, it helps us understand that the One who created nature was not constrained by the ordinary manner of human birth. Mary’s virginity was not violated by the coming forth of Christ but remained inviolate, for the Holy Ghost preserved her perpetual virginity in both conception and birth.⁴

The same Roman Catechism draws the contrast with Eve even more sharply. After the Fall, Eve heard the sentence, “In sorrow shalt thou bring forth children” (Genesis 3:16), but Mary, the New Eve, was exempted from this law and brought forth Jesus without the ordinary pain of childbirth.⁵ Bethlehem therefore presents us with an extraordinary paradox: Mary gives birth without the bodily travail associated with fallen motherhood, yet at precisely that moment another kind of travail begins within the mystery of her maternal vocation.

Here Alice von Hildebrand’s insight becomes especially moving. Until Bethlehem, Mary could shelter Christ within herself in a way that no mother could shelter Him afterward. Once He had been born, she could wrap Him in swaddling clothes, press Him against her breast, nourish Him, carry Him in her arms, and watch over His sleep, but she could no longer conceal Him completely from the fallen world He had entered. She had not brought Him forth into paradise but into a world wounded by the sin of Adam, a world whose darkness He had come precisely to overcome.

The signs of that darkness appeared almost immediately. There was no room for Him at the inn, and the King of creation was laid in a manger. Herod would soon seek the Child in order to destroy Him, forcing Mary and Joseph to carry Jesus into the uncertainty of exile. Simeon would then place into words the mystery already unfolding before her when he foretold that Christ would be “for a sign which shall be contradicted” and added to Mary, “thy own soul a sword shall pierce” (Luke 2:34–35). The Child whom she had once been able to protect completely within herself now belonged to a mission that would carry Him steadily toward rejection, suffering, and the Cross.

This maternal suffering helps us approach a passage of Scripture that might otherwise appear difficult to reconcile with the Church’s traditional teaching concerning the painless Nativity. Saint John writes in the Apocalypse:

“And a great sign appeared in heaven: A woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars: And being with child, she cried travailing in birth, and was in pain to be delivered.”— Apocalypse 12:1–2

If Mary brought forth Christ without the ordinary physical pains of childbirth, why does the Woman of the Apocalypse appear crying out in travail?

Saint Pius X provides an important key. Commenting explicitly upon this passage, he identifies the Woman with the Blessed Virgin Mary, “the stainless one who brought forth our Head,” but he does not interpret her travail as a description of physical labor pains at Bethlehem. Rather, he observes that Saint John sees Mary already in heavenly glory and nevertheless “travailing in a mysterious childbirth.” What birth could this be? Saint Pius answers that it is the spiritual birth of us, the members of Christ who must yet be brought to perfect charity and eternal happiness. The pains of this mysterious childbirth, he explains, signify the intensity of Mary’s maternal love and her desire for the salvation of her children.⁶

This interpretation does not sever Apocalypse 12 from Bethlehem, because the Woman first gives birth to the Messiah Himself, the “man child, who was to rule all nations with an iron rod” (Apocalypse 12:5). Yet the vision extends beyond the physical Nativity, for the same Woman later appears as Mother of those who belong to Christ, when the dragon goes forth “to make war with the rest of her seed, who keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ” (Apocalypse 12:17). The Woman is therefore shown in relation both to Christ the Head and to those who belong to His Mystical Body.

This gives us a profound way of understanding von Hildebrand’s meditation. The travail of the Woman need not contradict the miraculous and painless birth of Jesus; rather, it can reveal something of the spiritual suffering that accompanied Mary’s mission of giving Christ to the world. Her body did not travail because Christ injured her in coming forth from her virginal womb. Her heart entered into travail because the Child whom she had protected beneath that heart was now being entrusted to a world whose salvation would cost Him His Blood.

Mary did not suffer because Christ passed from her womb; her sorrow arose because Christ passed from her protection into the world.

The distinction changes the way we contemplate Bethlehem. The hands that Mary first held beside the manger would one day be stretched upon the wood of the Cross, the brow she kissed would one day be crowned with thorns, and the little body she wrapped in swaddling clothes would eventually be taken down from Calvary and placed again into her arms. We need not suppose that Mary knew every historical detail of the Passion while kneeling before the manger, yet she knew that this Child belonged to the Father and had been sent for the redemption of Israel. Simeon would soon confirm that His mission would involve contradiction and that her own soul would participate mysteriously in its cost.

Bethlehem thus begins a surrender that reaches its summit on Calvary. At the Annunciation Mary had surrendered herself to God when she answered,

“Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to thy word” (Luke 1:38).

At Bethlehem her fiat took on a new and more costly dimension because she now began surrendering her Son. The One who had been hidden entirely within her would be shown to shepherds and Magi, presented in the Temple, carried into Egypt, manifested to Israel, and finally delivered into the hands of those for whose salvation He had come.

At Calvary the mystery reaches a terrible fulfillment, and here the Woman’s spiritual travail becomes even clearer. Pope Leo XIII taught that Mary is the Mother of all Christians whom she “bore on Mount Calvary amid the supreme throes of the Redemption.”⁷ The language is extraordinary because it places a kind of spiritual childbirth precisely where tradition has always located Mary’s greatest suffering. She brought forth Jesus at Bethlehem without the pains of fallen childbirth, but beneath the Cross she participated maternally in the anguish through which the children of the new creation were being born.

There Christ said to her, “Woman, behold thy son,” and to the beloved disciple,

“Behold thy mother” (John 19:26–27).

Mary, who had given Christ to humanity at Bethlehem, now received humanity from Christ at Calvary. Her motherhood was not abolished but enlarged, for she who had borne the Head according to the flesh was now entrusted with a maternal relationship toward His members according to grace. Saint Pius X therefore teaches that Mary is Mother not only of Jesus Christ but also of us, who are joined to Christ as members of His Body.⁸

Saint Paul gives us another biblical key when he writes to the Galatians,

“My little children, of whom I am in labour again, until Christ be formed in you” (Galatians 4:19).

Here childbirth and labor pains clearly describe spiritual rather than physical generation. What Saint Paul experiences apostolically, Mary possesses in an incomparable maternal manner: the desire that Christ be formed within those who have become His brothers and her children.

Seen in this light, the Woman of Apocalypse 12 gathers together a magnificent sequence of mysteries. At Bethlehem Mary gives birth to Christ without injury to her virginity and without the bodily pains associated with Eve’s fallen condition. Yet in giving Him to the world she enters upon the maternal sorrow inseparable from His redemptive mission. At Calvary that sorrow reaches its summit as she stands beside the sacrifice of her Son and receives His disciples as her spiritual children. In the life of the Church her maternal solicitude continues as she intercedes that Christ may be formed within us and that her children may attain the holiness and eternal happiness for which her Son shed His Blood.

This also gives profound meaning to our sins. We should speak carefully here, because Mary now possesses the happiness of heaven and does not suffer there through some deficiency in beatitude.

Nevertheless, Saint Pius X himself uses the image of the Woman’s birth pangs to describe the intensity of her heavenly maternal charity and her desire that we reach salvation. Our sins oppose the very work for which her Son suffered and the very holiness toward which her maternal intercession directs us. Whenever we refuse grace, cling to sin, or resist becoming like Christ, we act contrary to the desire of the Mother who wishes above all to see the image of her Son brought to maturity within her children.

Thus, the mysterious travail of Apocalypse 12 can be contemplated across the whole mystery of Mary’s motherhood. It begins, in a spiritual sense, when Bethlehem brings to an end those hidden months in which she alone could shelter Jesus completely beneath her heart. It deepens as she watches Him enter a world that will contradict Him, and it reaches its earthly culmination when she stands beneath His Cross and receives as her children those for whom He is dying. The Woman’s travail then becomes an image of that immense maternal charity by which Mary desires that every member of Christ’s Mystical Body be brought safely to the fullness of life in Him.

There is therefore something extraordinarily beautiful in Alice von Hildebrand’s original intuition. Mary’s freedom from the ordinary pains of childbirth does not make Bethlehem less human or less moving; it directs our attention toward a deeper sorrow. Her virginal body was not wounded in giving Christ birth, but her maternal heart began the long surrender involved in giving Christ to the world. For nine months she had sheltered Him within the sacred temple of her body, but at Bethlehem she opened her arms and offered Him to sinners.

The manger already points toward the Cross, while the Cross reveals the full meaning of the manger. Mary gives Christ to us at Bethlehem, and at Calvary Christ gives us to Mary. Between those two mysteries stands the Mother who receives everything from God and therefore holds nothing back from Him, until the Son once hidden safely beneath her heart becomes the Lamb offered for the salvation of the world and the Mother who bore Him becomes Mother also of those whom His sacrifice redeems.

Prayer

O Blessed Virgin Mary, ever Virgin and Mother of God, you sheltered Jesus for nine months within the sacred temple of your body and then gave Him to a world that desperately needed its Savior. Teach us to receive Him with your purity, to love Him with your faithfulness, and to allow Him to be formed ever more perfectly within us. When our sins resist His grace, obtain for us true repentance; when fear keeps us from surrendering ourselves to God, teach us your fiat; and when love demands sacrifice, help us remember the Mother who gave her Son to the world and stood faithfully beside Him even beneath the Cross. May Christ be formed in us until, through His mercy, we are brought safely into the eternal joy for which He gave His life. Amen.

Footnotes

¹ Alice von Hildebrand discussed motherhood, virginity, and the spiritual significance of feminine maternity with Father Benedict Groeschel in the EWTN series Man and Woman: A Divine Invention. EWTN identifies the episode “Maternity and Virginity Pt 1” as treating women’s role in bringing forth life “both physically and spiritually.” The particular recollection that Mary could shelter Christ during the nine months of pregnancy in a manner no longer possible after His birth is presented here as a paraphrase because a verbatim transcript of von Hildebrand’s remarks has not been located. EWTN, Man and Woman: A Divine Invention, accessed September 7, 2026.

² Alice von Hildebrand, “Mary, Queen of Widows,” Alice von Hildebrand, accessed September 7, 2026. Von Hildebrand writes, “Her virginal body became a sacred temple which sheltered Jesus for nine months.”

³ Saint Anthony of Padua, In Assumptione Beatae Mariae Virginis, in Sermones Mariani. Saint Anthony teaches that Mary remained entirely virginal in the conception and Nativity of Christ, writing, “Virgo ante partum et in partu permansit.” Basilica of Saint Anthony of Padua, “Assunzione al Cielo della Beata Vergine Maria,” accessed September 7, 2026.

⁴ Catechismus ex Decreto Concilii Tridentini ad Parochos Pii V Pont. Max. iussu editus, pt. 1, art. 3. The Roman Catechism compares Christ’s birth to the rays of the sun penetrating glass “without breaking or injuring” it and teaches that the Holy Ghost preserved Mary’s perpetual virginity inviolate in conception and birth. The Catechism of the Council of Trent, pt. 1, art. 3.

⁵ Catechism of the Council of Trent, pt. 1, art. 3. In contrasting Mary with Eve, the Catechism teaches that Mary was exempt from the ordinary pains of childbirth and brought forth Christ without diminution of her virginal integrity.

⁶ Pius X, Ad Diem Illum Laetissimum, encyclical, February 2, 1904, no. 24. After quoting Apocalypse 12:1–2, Saint Pius X identifies the Woman with Mary and explains that Saint John saw her “travailing in a mysterious childbirth.” He interprets this birth as the spiritual generation of Christians toward perfect charity and eternal happiness, while the birth pains signify Mary’s ardent maternal love and desire for their salvation.

⁷ Leo XIII, Quamquam Pluries, encyclical, August 15, 1889, no. 3. Leo XIII teaches that the Blessed Virgin, because she is the Mother of Jesus Christ, “is she the mother of all Christians whom she bore on Mount Calvary amid the supreme throes of the Redemption.”

⁸ Pius X, Ad Diem Illum Laetissimum, nos. 10–12. Saint Pius X develops Mary’s spiritual maternity through the doctrine of Christ’s Mystical Body, teaching that because Christ is the Head and Christians are His members, Mary’s maternity extends in a true spiritual sense to those united with her Son.

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