Standing with Mary

A Personal Dive into the 'Stabat Mater' on Passiontide Friday

Robert Puschautz, Stabat Mater

Last year, on the Friday before Good Friday, I slipped into a little church downtown to dodge the chaos for a minute. Turned out it was choir practice, and they were running through the Stabat Mater. I wasn’t braced for it—my eyes got watery as those voices swelled, hauling me right to the Cross. That hymn, traditionally pinned to Jacopone da Todi, has been rattling hearts for ages, and it’s still got me in its grip. Let’s ramble through its roots—when it sparked, what it’s howling, how it’s hung on, with all the Latin and English laid out, plus why it keeps shaking me up on this Passiontide Friday.

Where It Came From

The Stabat Mater Dolorosa—“The Sorrowful Mother Was Standing”—hit the scene in the late 1200s, likely between 1270 and 1300. Most bets are on Jacopone da Todi, an Italian Franciscan who lived from about 1230 to 1306. He was a solicitor and notary, a man of order, until his wife’s death smashed him, kicking him into a raw, soul-spilling life of poverty and prayer. He wrote in the vernacular too, gritty and real, but this hymn’s in brilliant rhymed Latin couplets—tight, pulsing, like a drumbeat. Some float names like Pope Innocent III or St. Bonaventure, but Jacopone’s fire fits the vibe. It’s been alive for over 700 years and still packs a wallop.

What It Means and Why It Sticks

It’s Mary, rooted at the Crucifixion, watching Jesus bleed out, her heart torn by that sword Simeon foretold (Luke 2:35). Its 20 stanzas pull us into her raw grief, then dare us to jump in too. Born in the Middle Ages, when folks were all in for Mary and Jesus’ human grit, it became part of the Stations of the Cross and was also incorporated into the Roman Missal as a sequence for the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows (September 15). Its chant cuts deep, and masters like Palestrina, Pergolesi, and Rossini spun it into melodies that stick like glue. It’s not some old church dust—it’s a fierce cry that drags you into the Passion’s mess.

The Whole Thing: Latin and English

Here’s the full Stabat Mater, every bit, in Latin and English—plain, gut-level stuff.

1. Stabat Mater dolorosa / Juxta crucem lacrimosa / Dum pendebat Filius.
   At the Cross her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last.

2. Cujus animam gementem / Contristatam et dolentem / Pertransivit gladius.
   Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword had passed.

3. O quam tristis et afflicta / Fuit illa benedicta / Mater Unigeniti!
   Oh, how sad and sore distressed was that Mother, highly blessed, of the sole-begotten One!

4. Quae moerebat et dolebat / Pia Mater, dum videbat / Nati poenas inclyti.
   She mourned and grieved, the gentle Mother, as she saw the pains of her glorious Son.

5. Quis est homo qui non fleret / Matrem Christi si videret / In tanto supplicio?
   Who’s the guy who wouldn’t weep, seeing Christ’s Mother in such deep torment?

6. Quis non posset contristari / Christi Matrem contemplari / Dolentem cum Filio?
   Who could keep from grieving, gazing at the Mother, suffering with her Son?

7. Pro peccatis suae gentis / Vidit Jesum in tormentis / Et flagellis subditum.
   For the sins of His own people, she saw Jesus in His torments, beaten down by whips.

8. Vidit suum dulcem natum / Moriendo desolatum / Dum emisit spiritum.
   She saw her sweet Son dying, abandoned, as He breathed His last.

9. Eia Mater, fons amoris / Me sentire vim doloris / Fac, ut tecum lugeam.
   Oh Mother, fount of love, let me feel the force of your grief, so I can mourn with you.

10. Fac ut ardeat cor meum / In amando Christum Deum / Ut sibi complaceam.
    Make my heart burn with love for Christ my God, so I can please Him.

11. Sancta Mater, istud agas / Crucifixi fige plagas / Cordi meo valide.
    Holy Mother, do this for me: fix the wounds of the Crucified deep in my heart.

12. Tui nati vulnerati / Tam dignati pro me pati / Poenas mecum divide.
    Your wounded Son, who deigned to suffer so much for me—share His pains with me.

13. Fac me tecum pie flere / Crucifixo condolere / Donec ego vixero.
    Let me weep with you devoutly, grieve with the Crucified, as long as I live.

14. Juxta crucem tecum stare / Et me tibi sociare / In planctu desidero.
    I long to stand with you by the Cross, to join you in your lament.

15. Virgo virginum praeclara / Mihi jam non sis amara / Fac me tecum plangere.
    Virgin of virgins, shining bright, don’t be harsh with me—let me weep with you.

16. Fac ut portem Christi mortem / Passionis fac consortem / Et plagas recolere.
    Let me carry Christ’s death, share in His Passion, and remember His wounds.

17. Fac me plagis vulnerari / Fac me cruce inebriari / Et cruore Filii.
    Let me be wounded with His wounds, drunk with the Cross and the blood of your Son.

18. Flammis ne urar succensus / Per te, Virgo, sim defensus / In die judicii.
    So I’m not burned in flames, Virgin, defend me on the day of judgment.

19. Christe, cum sit hinc exire / Da per Matrem me venire / Ad palmam victoriae.
    Christ, when it’s time to leave this world, through your Mother let me reach the palm of victory.

20. Quando corpus morietur / Fac ut animae donetur / Paradisi gloria. Amen.
    When my body dies, grant my soul the glory of Paradise. Amen.

Why It Still Wrecks Me

That choir practice moment slams me every Passiontide Friday—I felt a strong emotion I couldn’t shake. Mary, stuck there as Jesus dies, tears me up. The Cross isn’t some neat icon—it’s rough, bloody, real, and she’s showing me how to face it head-on. I’m not wired to sit with pain—I’d rather scroll or dodge it with a laugh—but this hymn locks me in. It’s Mary grabbing my sleeve, saying, “Stay. Look at Him.” She’s a mom who’s lost everything and still trusts God. This Friday before Good Friday, I’m hanging with her, letting the weight hit, banking on her to pull me through to Easter. Maybe you’ll roll with us too.