| |
Reflections in a
Mirror
In
this Way of the
Cross we endeavor
to see our own lives
reflected in each individual
station, after the example
of Our Holy Mothers,
St. Clare, St. Colette
and Our Holy Father
St. Francis.
St. Clare
wrote in her fourth
letter to St. Agnes
of Prague:
"Gaze upon this
mirror each day, and
continually study your
face within it"
Each
Station corresponds
in some measure to life
shattered by sin —and
redeemed, made whole,
through love, not as
an abstraction, but
as an Incarnation.
It
is a mirror that will
enable us to see more
deeply the value of
our existence and
more clearly the place
of suffering within
it. Above all, it will
enable us to love Jesus
Christ more."
|
The
Stations of the
Cross


REFLECTIONS
on the
STATIONS OF THE CROSS
by a Cloistered Poor Clare
Colettine Nun
Wilt thou walk with
Me ...?

I

Jesus is Condemned to Death
|

Stabat Mater
Jacopone da Todi,
(13th century)
STABAT
Mater dolorosa
iuxta Crucem lacrimosa,
dum pendebat Filius.
.
AT
the Cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful Mother
weeping,
close to Jesus to the last.
|
Videns autem Pilátus quia nihil profíceret, sed magis tumúltus fíeret: accépta aqua, lavit manus coram pópulo, dicens: Ínnocens ego sum a sánguine justi hujus: vos vidéritis. Et respóndens univérsus pópulus, dixit: Sanguis ejus super nos, et super fílios nostros. Tunc dimísit illis Barábbam : Jesum autem flagellátum trádidit eis ut crucifigerétur.
"So when Pilate saw that he was gaining nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, "I am innocent of this man's blood; see to it yourselves." And all the people answered, "His blood be on us and on our children!" Then he released for them Barab'bas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered him to be crucified." (St. Matthew 27.24-26)
Let us pray:
Lord, have mercy on us, for none of us are innocent. In this mirror allow me to see where I have denied you, where I have refused to take responsibility, feared involvement in the suffering of others, turned away at the cost of the innocent. Lord, grant me the grace, the courage, to face suffering, to stand as a reed against towering Cedars that would crush the blameless, to contend with evil knowing that my failure to find my outrage is my complicity in it. Too, teach me humility, my God, in knowing that were I there, I would have denied You, fled you, too ... because I deny you, flee you, each time I choose sin over you. May this be so no more.
Judgment is no more mine than it was Pilate's. Lord, open my heart to pray for all those condemned to die.
Am I not numbered among them?
|


Jesus takes
up his Cross
|
Cuius
animam gementem,
contristatam
et dolentem
pertransivit
gladius.
Through
her heart, His
sorrow sharing,
all His bitter
anguish bearing,
now at length
the sword has
passed.
|
Si
quis vult post
me veníre, ábneget
semetípsum,
et tollat crucem
suam quotídie,
et sequátur
me. Qui enim
volúerit ánimam
suam salvam
fácere, perdet
illam : nam
qui perdíderit
ánimam suam
propter me,
salvam fáciet
illam. Quid
enim próficit
homo, si lucrétur
univérsum mundum,
se autem ipsum
perdat, et detriméntum
sui fáciat?
And
he said to all,
"If any man
would come after
me, let him
deny himself
and take up
his cross daily
and follow me.
For whoever
would save his
life will lose
it; and whoever
loses his life
for my sake,
he will save
it. For what
does it profit
a man if he
gains the whole
world and loses
or forfeits
himself?
(St.
Luke 9.23-25)
Let us pray:
Lord
Jesus, in
this mirror,
in this picture,
I see the unfathomable,
the unspeakable
depth of your
love for me.
There were none
to defend you
from the hatred
of the world
when you stood
silently, uttering
no abuse and
covered in shame.
Our shame. Surrendering
to the Father,
you embraced
us in the cruel
wood of the
Cross — while
we surrendered
to fear and
abandoned
you. You watched
us flee, even
as our sins
rushed in upon
you. That emblem
of ignominy,
rough-hewn,
sin-saturated
and fraught
with such torment,
you did not
push away although
a Legion of
Angels stood
at your call.
How the world
trembled around
you! Angels
and men!
You had lost
so much blood!
How could you
have borne it?
The way to the
height of that
sad summit of
suffering was
a gauntlet of
pain and abuse,
mockery, derision,
and violence
to your flesh
— and still,
still you choose
the Cross? Alike,
we who fled,
and those who
stayed — we,
who took no
violence to
our flesh, and
they who brought
such violence
to yours ...
alike we bore
down upon you
as insufferable
weight in the
Cross. You could
have fled, called
down your Angels,
passed through
their midst
— but you stayed
because of us,
as we fled because
of you.
And still
you stay! —
in the Most
Holy Sacrifice
of the Mass,
in the Most
Blessed Sacrament
of the Altar!
And still
we flee you!
Fearing violence
to our desires
through submission
to grace; fearing
that same guilt
by association
that would call
us, in you,
to hold fast
to our vows,
fleeing the
hatred of the
world that would
rush in upon
us as our own
sins rushed
in upon you.
From afar we
watch you stagger
as our
Cross is thrown
upon you. Blinded
by spittle and
blood, buffeted
on every side,
you begin to
wend your way
into our lives.
"Greater love
hath no man
..."
You know that
we will come,
one day, to
understand this
and through
your example
hold fast against
the withering
hate of this
world.
Give me, O,
Christ, to become
like unto Thee,
to take
my first
steps through
that gauntlet
of grace that
leads me beyond
that suffering
height ... that
I may die for
Thee ... as
Thou hast died
for me!
|


Jesus Falls the
First Time
|
O
quam tristis et
afflicta
fuit illa benedicta,
mater Unigeniti!
.
O
how sad and sore
distressed
was that Mother,
highly blest,
of the sole-begotten
One.
|
Vere
languóres nostros
ipse tulit, et dolóres
nostros ipse portávit;
et nos putávimus
eum quasi leprósum,
et percússum a Deo,
et humiliátum. Ipse
autem vulnerátus
est propter iniquitátes
nostras ;attrítus
est propter scélera
nostra:disciplína
pacis nostræ super
eum,et livóre ejus
sanáti sumus.
"Surely
he has borne our
grief's and carried
our sorrows; yet
we esteemed him
stricken, smitten
by God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded
for our transgressions,
he was bruised for
our iniquities;
upon him was the
chastisement that
made us whole, and
with his stripes
we are healed."
(Isaiah
53.4-5)
Let
us pray:
Lamb
of God, I no
longer can number
my sins ... which
of them brought
you first to your
knees? Which sin
was so laden with
evil that you stumbled
beneath it and fell
to the ground? Was
it the ponderous
weight of hatred
in my heart that
caused your knees
to buckle? Which
voluptuous night?
Which day of unbridled
insolence? Was it
the day I struck
you when I struck
down my brother?
The day I throttled
a debtor to reclaim
what was never mine?
Which day, my Lord?
Which sin? They
are without number
and I am seized
with grief — could
I but atone for
this one ... this
one that brought
you to the ground.
The world applauded
as you fell ...
endlessly through
the empty corridors
of my life that
end abruptly now,
here at your knees.
Did you see my feet
before you as you
lay on the ground?
Did you look up
on my indifference,
bloodied and dazed?
I know you did!
I saw you!
Homeless and ravaged
with addiction,
you laid at my feet
and looked up at
me from the squalor
of my selfishness,
uttering no word
of reproach —as
I stepped over you
on my way to work.
I have seen your
eyes a thousand
times ... from doorways
and dumpsters ...
and a thousand times
I passed you by.
For all my grief
on this first fall
you know ... you
know that falling
once will not suffice.
I have brought the
very Son of God
to His knees ...
and still it will
not do! Still I
am not convinced,
that you will pour
your life out in
your love ... for
me. You must topple
this god I have
made of myself,
vanquish this idol
again and again.
I will see if yet
you love me so!
What will it take?
But I will follow
you ... to see
if so you love me
still —despite
my countless sins
that press you down
against the pavement
of my hardened heart.
Could one fall suffice,
I would never have
sinned again ...
O, Pie, Jesu, Domine
... !
|

IV

Jesus Meets
His Mother,
Mary
|
Quae
maerebat et dolebat,
pia Mater, dum videbat
nati poenas inclyti.
Christ
above in torment
hangs,
she beneath beholds
the pangs
of her dying glorious
Son.
|
Et
benedíxit illis
Símeon, et dixit
ad Maríam matrem
ejus: Ecce pósitus
est hic in ruínam
et in resurrectiónem
multórum in Ísraël,
et in signum cui
contradicétur: et
tuam ipsíus ánimam
pertransíbit gládius
ut reveléntur ex
multis córdibus
cogitatiónes.
"Simeon
blessed them and
said to Mary his
mother, "Behold,
this child is set
for the fall and
rising of many in
Israel, and for
a sign that is spoken
against and a sword
will pierce through
your own soul also,
that thoughts out
of many hearts may
be revealed."
(St.
Luke 2.34-35)
Let
us pray:
Mary,
consummate faithful
one! — to the revelation
of God and the thoughts
of men!
Uttering,
"yes", score
ten and three years
past — at that Annunciation
from the One True
God, He sealed that
"yes" in solemn
song upon your lips!
Responsory from
the Espoused of
God! "Yes! Your
will be done!
Fiat!"
Wearied with sorrow,
unforgetting in
love, you intone
your muffled
Magnificat,
sublime in your
suffering that should
have been mine —still
magnifying Him in
your pain Who magnified
you.
Love reflects love,
Mother and Son.
May I, too, sing
my Magnificat
with you, not only
in joy, but in sorrow
and pain. "Your
will be done!"
O,
Mary! The Beginning
and the End now
stands here before
you ... !
"The Alpha and
the Omega. The First
and the Last!"
As in the beginning
at Bethlehem, so
here at the
end — He lies
before you again,
in need, naked and
weak, His face in
your hands and pressed
to your lips!
A Light to everlasting
life, a night to
everlasting death,
He is the beginning
and the end once
again ...
the beginning that
was an end is now
the end that is
a beginning. There
are no dreams in
this night, but
the fulfillment
of all!
From paradox to
paradox He passes
through the shadow
and light in our
lives ... ceaselessly
bringing us from
shadow to light.
But here, in this
Station He pauses,
for He has succumbed
to your grief ...
What did He seek,
O Mother, from that
storm filled with
sorrow? What word
did you speak?
It could only be
one.
With the same word
you welcomed, and
now you relinquish,
Whom in time and
eternity you ever
loved most.
"Fiat!"
...
"Fiat"... the whispered
assent — in the
beginning
— to the voice of
an Angel; "Fiat",
the whispered assent
— at the end
— to the will of
the Father ... and
the rage of the
mob.
Whom you embraced
in unspeakable love
in your arms ...
you now surrender
to the clamor and
darkness of death.
Daughter
of Abraham!
You do not hold
back whom most you
love, but immolate
your only begotten
in a holocaust of
grief commingled
with love — and
the fire on Moriah
is but an ember
in your heart, a
smoldering wick
on the hill of the
Place of the Skull
where the world
will take Him to
number all of His
bones!
"Mulier, ecce filius
tuus! "Woman, behold
thy Son!"
O, Mary, daughter
of Abraham ... your
children are numbered
beyond the stars
in the vault of
the firmament of
night, beyond the
shifting sands at
the edge of the
ebb of all tides,
beyond the dreams
of the Patriarchs
who prophesied this
night! You surrender
the One and in the
One receive many
... can you count
them, number them
through the cavalcade
of all time?
Only your love,
Mary, verges upon
the love of your
Son, for
your
surrender was
His, and
His
surrender was
yours —
Mother and Son surrendered
to us,
immolated for
us in one will.
|

V

Simon Helps
Jesus Carry
the Cross
|
Quis
est homo qui non
fleret,
matrem Christi si
videret
in tanto supplicio?
Is
there one who would
not weep,
whelmed in miseries
so deep,
Christ's dear Mother
to behold?
|
Et
exspuéntes in eum,
accepérunt arúndinem,
et percutiébant
caput ejus. Et postquam
illusérunt ei, exuérunt
eum chlámyde, et
induérunt eum vestiméntis
ejus, et duxérunt
eum ut crucifígerent.
"And
spitting upon him,
they took the reed,
and struck his head.
And after they had
mocked him, they
took off the cloak
from him, and put
on him his own garments,
and led him away
to crucify him.
And going out, they
found a man of Cyrene,
named Simon: him
they forced to take
up his cross."
(St.
Matthew 27.30-32)
Let
us pray:
Mary,
Mother of unspeakable
Sorrow ...
The world did not
simply seek the
death of your Son
... but His shame!
He must not die
before He can be
publicly reviled.
He has yet to satisfy
the blood-lust of
the mob, the vindication
of the self-righteous.
The soldiers had
not yet vented,
exhausted, their
cruelty upon Him,
and the crowds still
gathered far ahead,
each with a handful,
a mouthful, of shame
to heap upon Him
as He passed. His
blood was not enough.
They sought more;
to shatter the dignity
of His beautiful
humanity.
Oh, Mary, they would
rip Him from your
womb even as they
tear Him from your
heart!
The immolation must
be complete, and
when the conflagration
passes, they would
have even the cinders
ground into the
soil, scattered
to the wind. But
first He must wend
His sorrowful way
through the tumultuous
crowd, a trail of
blood at His feet
until He can move
no more.
"You! ... Simon!
... You must bear
this malefactors
Cross, otherwise
he will die before
we can slake our
full vengeance!"
Simon blenches,
but is forced withal
to the Cross, to
carry our shame
placed upon Him
without sin. The
scourges, the buffets,
the filth of mankind
are hurled at Simon,
too, and the weight
of the Cross now
bears down upon
him. The
Cross and the to-be-Crucified
become his
affliction — and
he cannot turn away
... or will not!
Pray for Us Simon
from the plains
of Cyrene! You bore
the affliction we
throw back into
the face of the
Father!
With what love,
Mary, you had gazed
on the face of the
man who took to
himself the Cross
and the Christ!
So gaze on me, under
my cross, borne
on the shoulders
of my Angel, when
I fall and have
no strength to arise.
Look on me, and
I will find the
strength to endure
the buffets of the
world and even far
darker things ...
Trembling, I take
refuge under the
shadow of your heel!
... quaff deeply
of life from the
love in your eyes!
|

VI

Veronica
Wipes the
Face of
Jesus
|
Quis
non posset contristari
Christi Matrem contemplari
dolentem cum Filio?
.
Can
the human heart
refrain
from partaking in
her pain,
in that Mother's
pain untold?
|
Et
plecténtes corónam
de spinis, posuérunt
super caput ejus,
et arúndinem in
déxtera ejus. Et
genu flexo ante
eum, illudébant
ei, dicéntes : Ave
rex Judæórum. Et
exspuéntes in eum,
accepérunt arúndinem,
et percutiébant
caput ejus. Et postquam
illusérunt ei, exuérunt
eum chlámyde, et
induérunt eum vestiméntis
ejus, et duxérunt
eum ut crucifígerent.
"Plaiting
a crown of thorns
they put it on his
head, and put a
reed in his right
hand. And kneeling
before him they
mocked him, saying,
"Hail, King of the
Jews!" And they
spat upon him, and
took the reed and
struck him on the
head. And when they
had mocked him,
they stripped him
of the robe, and
put his own clothes
on him, and led
him away to crucify
him."
(St. Matthew 27.29-31)
Let
us pray:
Mary,
Mother of Mercy
...
Veronica alone hastened
to Christ in His
Passion. Everyone
else fled. Only
you, Mary, with
John and the Magdalen
now remained, pressed
back by the shields
of the might of
Rome.
Simon looks on,
buttressing the
Cross that would
crush the Son, the
Cross to which he
came under the hands
of violent men,
but here another
comes, not under
duress, but compelled
by compassion. From
that profane furor
of the fevered crowd,
unheeded by steeled
hearts of stone,
she comes an angel
with shadow from
the fierce Semitic
sun. A winding-cloth,
as it were, spun
from her veil and
pressed past the
thorns.
Veronica .... you
are
the vera icon
— the true image
— pressing your
veil to Jesus' bleeding
face you find it
etched within your
trembling hands.
The image of the
face of God!
Vera icon in
the midst of men!
You are an icon
bearer twice in
truth. In your hands
the incorruptible
face of God, in
your heart the unblemished
mirror of mercy,
image of the Mother
of Mercy and the
Son of God.
Vera icon in the
midst of men!
Make of me, an icon,
too, my God!
A Vera icon
in the midst of
men. A true image
of the Mother, Son.
Responsory:
And Jesus cried
out and said, "He
who believes in
me, believes not
in me but in Him
who sent me. And
he who sees me sees
Him who sent me.
I have come as light
into the world,
that whoever believes
in me may not remain
in darkness.
(St. John 12)
Thou hast said,
"Seek ye my face."
My heart says to
thee, "Thy face,
LORD, do I seek."
Hide not thy face
from me. Turn not
thy servant away
in anger, thou who
hast been my help.
Cast me not off,
forsake me not,
O God of my salvation!
(Psalm 27)
Let
us pray:
O,
Jesus , in this
mirror of suffering,
I also seek your
face ...
O my Jesus, my suffering
Savior, I see your
face and I meet
understanding, as
I see my own pain
and suffering reflected
as if in a mirror.
I see, too, the
faces of suffering
humanity, waiting
for a Veronica to
show compassion
and love.
Beauty is never
hidden from those
who love, they embrace
the total person
in the other.
"Lord
I seek your face,
hide not your face
from me."
|

VII

Jesus
Falls the
Second Time
|
Pro
peccatis suae gentis
vidit Iesum in tormentis,
et flagellis subditum.
Bruised,
derided, cursed,
defiled,
she beheld her tender
Child
All with scourges
rent:
|
Veníte
ad me omnes qui
laborátis, et oneráti
estis, et ego refíciam
vos. Tóllite jugum
meum super vos,
et díscite a me,
quia mitis sum,
et húmilis corde
: et inveniétis
réquiem animábus
vestris. Jugum enim
meum suáve est,
et onus meum leve.
"Come
to me, all who labour
and are heavy laden,
and I will give
you rest. Take my
yoke upon you, and
learn from me; for
I am gentle and
lowly in heart,
and you will find
rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy,
and my burden is
light."
(Matthew 11.28-30)
Let
us pray:
O,
my Jesus, you
have fallen yet
again — under the
power of so much
hate and rejection.
The hate of men,
the implacable hatred
of darkness in deep
places ... beneath
the unrelenting
weight of our sins
... and still we
heap them on You
...
As Son of God and
Son of Mary, you
were possessed of
the most perfect
human body!
Tattered, torn,
bruised and brutalized,
it now lies under
the Cross, and scarce
would I recognize
you beneath the
rancor that violates
the most sacred
of flesh, the foul
breath of all evil
obscuring, subduing,
all beauty and grace
in a litany of sin
...
You did not succumb
to the weight or
the blows that bore
you down, the withering
malice that would
not leave you unscathed,
untrammeled — it
was not physical
weakness that made
you fall twice —
but the burden of
lovelessness, that
weight beyond measure.
Here you fall under
the sins of omission
... of love that
should have loved,
but was twisted
to hate.
Have mercy on me
... in my failure
to love. Thee, O
Christ! ... and
the least of these
in whom we crucify
you twice!
|

VIII

Jesus
Meets the
Sorrowing
Women
|
Vidit
suum dulcem Natum
moriendo desolatum,
dum emisit spiritum.
For
the sins of His
own nation,
saw Him hang in
desolation,
Till His spirit
forth He sent.
|
Sequebátur
autem illum multa
turba pópuli et
mulíerum, quæ plangébant
et lamentabántur
eum. Convérsus autem
ad illas Jesus,
dixit : Fíliæ Jerúsalem,
nolíte flere super
me, sed super vos
ipsas flete et super
fílios vestros.
"And
there followed him
a great multitude
of the people, and
of women who bewailed
and lamented him.
But Jesus turning
to them said, "Daughters
of Jerusalem, do
not weep for me,
but weep for yourselves
and for your children."
(St. Luke 23.27-28)
Let
us pray:
"Jesus
wept." (John
11:35) This is the
shortest verse in
all Holy Scripture,
and it occurs upon
Jesus learning of
the death of Lazarus,
and at the tomb
before which Martha
and Mary, the sisters
of Lazarus, also
wept. True God and
True Man, Jesus
knew the depth of
human suffering,
of pain in the heart
to the point of
tears. He, too,
wept.
But now, confronted
with the irrepressible
grief of the holy
women of Jerusalem,
lamenting His own
suffering — even
as Jesus lamented
the suffering of
Martha and Mary
— He seeks no compassion
... but brings solace
to them instead.
"Weep not for me."
He cannot lament
his own agony, for
He would then lament
the salvation of
the world He was
enacting before
them. Instead, He
embraces it, and
tells the holy women
to weep for themselves
and their children.
Why? Especially,
why for their children?
Most of them must
have understood
it at once. Any
parent will understand
it immediately.
It was not only
for their own sins
that they should
weep — but for the
sins of their children.
What parent has
not known the agony
of a wandering and
wayward child whose
selfish sins (and
all sin is selfish)
have left behind
them a wake of destruction
and shattered lives
that in turn have
left a wake of sin
and sorrow after
them! What parent
has not feared for
the salvation of
their own flesh
in light of unrepentant
sin? And all sin
... all sin ...
the sin of all
time ... is now
laid upon the bleeding
shoulders of the
Son of God Who stops
before them.
Bearing not simply
all sins past, or
even all sins present
.... but all the
sins of all the
world for all of
time ... He bears
the sins yet to
be, the sins of
those not yet present,
but in the generations
to spring forth
from the wombs of
these holy women.
Their sons, their
daughters, even
now, before their
eyes, torment the
Christ — as will
their children's
children unto the
last man, the last
woman, standing
at the chasm of
the end of all time.
"Weep for them!
So many ... so many,
know not what they
do! But here you
see it before you,
O, holy women who
would lament Me
instead of your
own children,
who I know are as
dear to you as I
am to Mary."
This Station is,
as it were, a hall
of mirrors reflecting
ad infinitum
... in which we
see ourselves, and
ourselves replicated
endlessly beyond
us — each image
bearing down on
the weight of the
Cross.
In
this mirror of suffering
Lord, we see the
pain of all mothers,
not only your own
beloved Mother,
but all the mothers
of humanity, as
they mourn and weep
for their children.
Receive, O Lord,
my gift of prayer
for all mothers
who at this moment
are suffering because
their child is in
sin, wayward and
lost, or through
our indifference
dying — under their
own cross of terminal
illness or drugs,
persecution or war.
Give them, these
holy women, your
blessing and your
grace. Pause before
them, too ... and
speak words of some
solace ...
|

IX

Jesus
Falls
the
Third
Time
|
Eia,
Mater, fons
amoris
me sentire vim
doloris
fac, ut tecum
lugeam.
O
thou Mother!
fount of love!
Touch my spirit
from above,
make my heart
with thine accord:
|
O
vos omnes
qui transítis
per viam,
atténdite,
et vidéte
si est dolor
sicut dolor
meus! quóniam
vindemiávit
me, ut locútus
est Dóminus,
in die iræ
furóris
sui. De
excélso
misit ignem
in óssibus
meis, et
erudívit
me: expándit
rete pédibus
meis, convértit
me retrórsum
; pósuit
me desolátam,
tota die
mœróre conféctam.
Vigilávit
jugum iniquitátum
meárum;
in manu
ejus convolútæ
sunt, et
impósitæ
collo meo.
Infirmáta
est virtus
mea: dedit
me Dóminus
in manu
de qua non
pótero súrgere.
"Is
it nothing
to you,
all you
who pass
by? Look
and see
if there
is any sorrow
like my
sorrow which
was brought
upon me,
which the
LORD inflicted
on the day
of his fierce
anger. "From
on high
he sent
fire; into
my bones
he made
it descend;
he spread
a net for
my feet;
he turned
me back;
he has left
me stunned,
faint all
the day
long. "My
transgressions
were bound
into a yoke;
by his hand
they were
fastened
together;
they were
set upon
my neck;
he caused
my strength
to fail;
the Lord
gave me
into the
hands of
those whom
I cannot
withstand."
(Lamentations
1.12-14)
Let us pray:
O,
my Jesus,
in this
mirror of
suffering
I see you,
the Lord
of Lord,
the King
of Kings,
prostrate
on the ground,
exhausted,
weighed
down by
your pain,
collapsing
under our
sins.
In this
icon I see
your poverty,
I see you,
the great
Shepherd
of the sheep,
crushed
as a sacrificial
lamb ...
This is
the way
in which
we, too,
must walk
before we
come to
good pastures.
We are all
called to
walk to
our own
Calvary;
called by
our Shepherd
into the
light of
the Resurrection
... beyond
the Cross;
beyond all
tears, all
suffering,
all sorrow
— to the
home you
have prepared
for us from
before all
time ...
|

X

Jesus
is Stripped
of His Garments
|
Sancta
Mater, istud agas,
crucifixi fige plagas
cordi meo valide.
Holy
Mother! pierce me
through,
in my heart each
wound renew
of my Savior crucified:
|
Mílites
ergo cum crucifixíssent
eum, accepérunt
vestiménta jus (et
fecérunt quátuor
partes, unicuíque
míliti partem) et
túnicam. Erat autem
túnica inconsútilis,
désuper contéxta
per totum.
"When
the soldiers had
crucified Jesus
they took his garments
and made four parts,
one for each soldier;
also his tunic.
But the tunic was
without seam, woven
from top to bottom"
(St.
John 19.23)
Let
us pray:
O,
my Jesus
... chastity!
Robed in the splendor
and glory of the
Father you came
into this world,
naked in that beautiful
innocence that never
left you. And now
the soldiers remove
your garments, revealing
what they hold to
be your shame, for
flesh was, as it
is now, not part
of the beautiful
dignity of your
Person, but the
object of shame
through the world's
violation of it.
It is sold, displayed,
used, abused, and
then discarded.
The mockery of this
station is multiplied
without number in
the world, in every
"strip club", in
every "X-rated"
movie, in every
salacious novel
pandering to the
most base and perverse
shadow in the human
soul. Did they not
strip you for their
perverse pleasure,
too? Hold you up
to laughter, the
applause, the satisfaction,
the blood-lust of
the crowd?
Each time I disrobe
anyone with my eyes,
in my thoughts ...
each time I am "entertained"
by the rape of modesty
in another ... give
me to see
you
before the wanton
gaze of those who
used you and abused
you and shamed you
to their own ends
O,
my Jesus ...
chastity!
Give
me this most beautiful
gift of purity ...
knowing that whenever
I honor the modesty,
dignity, and beauty
of another ... even
the least of them
... I honor you!
Responsory
O,
my Jesus,
true God and perfect
man, in this mirror
of suffering I see
you exposed, stripped
and exhibited.
Forgive me Lord,
forgive me when
I have exposed the
vulnerability of
others.
You came into this
world clothed in
your Father's glory,
wrapped round with
His love, and after
disrobing you with
our shame — after
we have had our
way with you — we
cast you out as
just another entertaining
and disposable object
in our society of
ultimately disposable
people ...
|

XI

Jesus
is Nailed
to the Cross
|
Tui
Nati vulnerati,
tam dignati pro
me pati,
poenas mecum divide.
Let
me share with thee
His pain,
who for all my sins
was slain,
who for me in torments
died.
|
Et
postquam venérunt
in locum qui vocátur
Calváriæ, ibi crucifixérunt
eum: et latrónes,
unum a dextris,
et álterum a sinístris.
Jesus autem dicébat:
Pater, dimítte illis:
non enim sciunt
quid fáciunt.
"And
when they came to
the place which
is called The Skull,
there they crucified
him, and the criminals,
one on the right
and one on the left.
And Jesus said,
"Father,
forgive them; for
they know not what
they do."
(St. Luke 23.33-34)
Let
us pray:
You
opened your hands
so many times before,
my beloved Jesus.
To bless, to heal,
to raise the maimed,
the ill — even to
raise the dead;
to caress the face
of lepers, to hold
the children who
gathered so gleefully
around you, to lift
up from shame those
brought down in
disgrace.
And now you open
them once more in
an act of love and
compassion greater
than any other.
The same love that
opened them to the
blind, opens them
to the blind once
again ... who do
not see, do not
understand, what
they do. Willingly
you open them to
be transfixed by
my sin — it was
not the force of
soldiers' calloused
fists, but the force
of love that
unfolded your hands
beneath the shattering
blow in the towering
hatred and hammer.
You did not resist
what in a word you
could have vanquished!
Teach me, my Jesus,
to be like unto
thee: meek before
hatred, returning
love for spite,
and blessing for
malediction! ...
to suffer evil without
reproach, to immolate
myself in my suffering
— beneath the hands
of men more evil
than me — in an
offering to Thee,
O, God ... my
God ... Who
has not forsaken
me! Into Whose Hands
I commend my cause
... and commit my
spirit!
Responsory
O,
my Jesus, in
this mirror of suffering
I see your wounded
hands and feet.
Though your wounds
are bleeding freely,
yet on your face
is peace.
Your mission is
almost accomplished;
you have done what
was yours to do.
O Jesus, teach me
now to do what is
mine.
Your arms are open
in total surrender
to the will of the
Father —
I ask for the grace
to abandon myself
totally to your
will, and through
you to the Father.
|

XII

Jesus
Dies on
the Cross
|
Fac
me tecum pie flere,
crucifixo condolere,
donec ego vixero.
Let
me mingle tears
with thee,
mourning Him who
mourned for me,
all the days that
I may live:
|
Cum
vidísset ergo Jesus
matrem, et discípulum
stantem, quem diligébat,
dicit matri suæ:
Múlier, ecce fílius
tuus. Deínde dicit
discípulo : Ecce
mater tua. Et ex
illa hora accépit
eam discípulus in
sua. Póstea sciens
Jesus quia ómnia
consummáta sunt,
ut consummarétur
Scriptúra, dixit:
Sítio.
"When
Jesus saw his mother,
and the disciple
whom he loved standing
near, he said to
his mother, "Woman,
behold, your son!"
Then he said to
the disciple, "Behold,
your mother!" And
from that hour the
disciple took her
to his own home.
After this Jesus,
knowing that all
was now finished,
said (to fulfill
the scripture),
"I thirst."
(St. John 19.26-28.)
Let
us pray:
O,
my Jesus, in
this mirror I see
reflected the incomprehensible
icon of your great
love for me. Through
the Incarnation
you emptied
yourself of your
Divinity to
assume the flesh
and blood of man
— and as though
this outpouring
were not enough,
that life you assumed
now pours forth
from you, a libation
in blood, as
you empty yourself
once again
... now surrendering
your humanity in
blood to the darkness
of death.
You have given all.
Your Divinity
and
your humanity
— and both,
that we may share
in your life as
God! Surrendering
both, you were poured
out utterly — that
we may come to the
fullness of life
through your death.
Utter desolation.
Utter abandonment.
The total dereliction
of God and Man in
the God made Man.
It is not taken
from you. You surrender
it. It is yours
to surrender, and
it is yours to take
up again! For all
our evil devices
we have taken nothing
from you but what
you willingly surrender,
and because it was
not in our power
to take, it is not
in our power to
restore. We are
not gods after all
... not by us,
but for our sake,
all has now been
accomplished. By
our malice, our
sin, have we brought
you to this death
— but not by our
power. Your meekness
has vanquished the
might of all men!
In dying you overthrew
death itself!
It is no more.
O, Jesus, grant
me the grace to
give myself
totally to
you
for the sake of
your love.
Behold, my Lord
and my God, from
this moment hence
I surrender to you
all that I am, all
that I have! Beyond
the scandal of the
Cross on this hill
of the skull, even
now I behold a gathering
light and it reveals
endless fields that
are yet white to
harvest! You have
come in your going.
I go, too, with
you ... so now,
Lord ... send me
...!
|

XIII

Jesus
is Taken
Down from
the Cross
|
Iuxta
Crucem tecum stare,
et me tibi sociare
in planctu desidero.
By
the Cross with thee
to stay,
there with thee
to weep and pray,
is all I ask of
thee to give.
|
Sed
unus mílitum láncea
latus ejus apéruit,
et contínuo exívit
sanguis et aqua.
Et qui vidit, testimónium
perhíbuit: et verum
est testimónium
ejus. Et ille scit
quia vera dicit:
ut et vos credátis.
Facta sunt enim
hæc ut Scriptúra
implerétur: Os non
comminuétis ex eo.
Et íterum ália Scriptúra
dicit: Vidébunt
in quem transfixérunt.
"But
one of the soldiers
pierced his side
with a spear, and
at once there came
out blood and water.
He who saw it has
borne witness —
his testimony is
true, and he knows
that he tells the
truth — that you
also may believe.
For these things
took place that
the scripture might
be fulfilled, "Not
a bone of him shall
be broken." And
again another scripture
says, "They shall
look on him whom
they have pierced."
(St.
John 19.34-37)
Let
us pray:
O,
my Mother, in
this picture, in
this mirror I see
the dead body of
your Son.
Looking at his lifeless
body, I see my own
death.
Death is a reality
that we must all
face, but I need
the grace, the grace
you possessed, Mary,
to look beyond the
passing reality
of death to the
greater reality
of life everlasting;
life forever beyond
that pale shadow
that has dogged
us all our days
and which, in an
instant of unquenchable
light, will vanish
forever and with
this valley of tears
be remembered no
more. This blighted
presence of
the scandal of death
is a shade, the
flight of darkness
itself from cruciform
Light — for
"Dying, You destroyed
our death"!
Mary, pray for me
that I may cling
to the promises
of Christ and believe
that they will be
fulfilled within
me, body and soul!
"Ego resuscitabo
eum in novissimo
die — I will
raise him up on
the last day."
Your Son promised.
I believe.
|

XIV

Jesus
is Laid
in the Tomb
Fac, ut portem Christi mortem,
passionis fac consortem,
et plagas recolere.
|
Fac me plagis vulnerari,
fac me Cruce inebriari,
et cruore Filii.
|
Flammis ne urar succensus,
per te, Virgo, sim defensus
in die iudicii.
|
Christe, cum sit hinc exire,
da per Matrem me venire
ad palmam victoriae.
|
Quando corpus morietur,
fac, ut animae donetur
paradisi gloria. Amen. |
Let me, to my latest breath,
in my body bear the death
of that dying Son of thine.
|
Wounded with His every wound,
steep my soul till it hath swooned,
in His very Blood away; |
Be to me, O Virgin, nigh,
lest in flames I burn and die,
in His awful Judgment Day.
|
Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence,
by Thy Mother my defense,
by Thy Cross my victory; |
While my body here decays,
may my soul Thy goodness praise,
safe in paradise with Thee. Amen.
|
|
Virgo
virginum praeclara,
mihi iam non sis
amara,
fac me tecum plangere.
Virgin
of all virgins blest!,
Listen to my fond
request:
let me share thy
grief divine.
|
Et
accépto córpore,
Joseph invólvit
illud in síndone
munda, et pósuit
illud in monuménto
suo novo, quod excíderat
in petra. Et advólvit
saxum magnum ad
óstium monuménti,
et ábiit. Erant
autem ibi María
Magdaléne, et áltera
María, sedéntes
contra sepúlchrum.
"And
Joseph took the
body, and wrapped
it in a clean linen
shroud, and laid
it in his own new
tomb, which he had
hewn in the rock;
and he rolled a
great stone to the
door of the tomb,
and departed. Mary
Magdalene and the
other Mary were
there, sitting opposite
the sepulcher."
(St. Matthew 27.59-61)
Let
us pray:
In
the depths of this
mirror a dim light
is flickering, it
is a light that
will soon burst
into a flame ...
O my Jesus, you
are, as it were,
the dead seed being
laid in the ground.
This icon proclaims
that all is finished
...
"consummatem est"
...
On the heights of
Mount Tabor, in
your Transfiguration,
we glimpsed the
truth that has pursued
us since: how much
is concealed from
us, both in light
and darkness ...
things are never
quite what they
seem and from this
moment forth, nothing
will be the same
again.
I shall continue
to gaze into this
mirror Lord until
I experience your
risen presence in
my life.
O Jesus, I believe
in you, I love you
— I wait for your
return! Darkness
or light, life or
death, it matters
not ...
I
will always find
you there ... when
all else tells me
that you have left,
I will always find
you there. Always!
The birth of a song
is stirring in my
heart on the edge
of this night, on
the brink of this
darkness, and I
know that I shall
soon sing, the song
of everlasting songs:
Alleluia! Sanctus!
Sanctus! Sanctus!
Dominus Deus Sabaoth
... Qui erat, Qui
est, et Qui venturus
est! Alleluia!*
By:
A Poor
Clare
Colettine
Nun
__________________________________________________________________________
*Alleluia!
Holy!
Holy!
Holy!
The
Lord,
God
of Hosts,
Who
was,
Who
is,
and
Who
is to
come
(Apocalypse
1.8)
(The Stations of
the Cross depicted
above were photographed
at Mary Immaculate
of Lourdes Parish,
Newton, MA by the
Boston Catholic
Journal)
Printable PDF Version
(32 pages)

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