Author Unknown: A Poem on the Passion of Our Lord

 Formerly ascribed to Lactantius (source: NewAdvent.org):


Whoever you are who approach, and are entering the precincts of the middle of the temple, stop a little and look upon me, who, though innocent, suffered for your crime; lay me up in your mind, keep me in your breast. I am He who, pitying the bitter misfortunes of men, came hither as a messenger of offered peace, and as a full atonement for the fault of men. Here the brightest light from above is restored to the earth; here is the merciful image of safety; here I am a rest to you, the right way, the true redemption, the banner of God, and a memorable sign of fate.

It was on account of you and your life that I entered the Virgin's womb, was made man, and suffered a dreadful death; nor did I find rest anywhere in the regions of the earth, but everywhere threats, everywhere labours.

First of all a wretched dwelling in the land of Judæa was a shelter for me at my birth, and for my mother with me: here first, amidst the outstretched sluggish cattle, dry grass gave me a bed in a narrow stall. I passed my earliest years in the Pharian regions, being an exile in the reign of Herod; and after my return to Judæa I spent the rest of my years, always engaged in fastings, and the extremity of poverty itself, and the lowest circumstances; always by healthful admonitions applying the minds of men to the pursuit of genial uprightness, uniting with wholesome teaching many evident miracles: on which account impious Jerusalem, harassed by the raging cares of envy and cruel hatred, and blinded by madness, dared to seek for me, though innocent, by deadly punishment, a cruel death on the dreadful cross.

And if you yourself wish to discriminate these things more fully, and if it delights you to go through all my groans, and to experience griefs with me, put together the designs and plots, and the impious price of my innocent blood, and the pretended kisses of a disciple, and the insults and strivings of the cruel multitude; and, moreover, the blows, and tongues prepared for accusations.

 Picture to your mind both the witnesses, and the accursed judgment of the blinded Pilate, and the immense cross pressing my shoulders and wearied back, and my painful steps to a dreadful death. Now survey me from head to foot, deserted as I am, and lifted up afar from my beloved mother.

Behold and see my locks clotted with blood, and my blood-stained neck under my very hair, and my head drained with cruel thorns, and pouring down like rain from all sides a stream of blood over my divine face.

Survey my compressed and sightless eyes, and my afflicted cheeks; see my parched tongue poisoned with gall, and my countenance pale with death. Behold my hands pierced with nails, and my arms drawn out, and the great wound in my side; see the blood streaming from it, and my perforated feet, and blood-stained limbs.

Bend your knee, and with lamentation adore the venerable wood of the cross, and with lowly countenance stooping to the earth, which is wet with innocent blood, sprinkle it with rising tears, and at times bear me and my admonitions in your devoted heart.

Follow the footsteps of my life, and while you look upon my torments and cruel death, remembering my innumerable pangs of body and soul, learn to endure hardships, and to watch over your own safety. These memorials, if at any time you find pleasure in thinking over them, if in your mind there is any confidence to bear anything like my sufferings), if the piety due, and gratitude worthy of my labours shall arise, will be incitements to true virtue, and they will be shields against the snares of an enemy, aroused by which you will be safe, and as a conqueror bear off the palm in every contest.

If these memorials shall turn away your senses, which are devoted to a perishable world, from the fleeting shadow of earthly beauty, the result will be, that you will not venture, enticed by empty hope, to trust the frail enjoyments of fickle fortune, and to place your hope in the fleeting years of life.

But, truly, if you thus regard this perishable world, and through your love of a better country deprive yourself of earthly riches and the enjoyment of present things, the prayers of the pious will bring you up in sacred habits, and in the hope of a happy life, amidst severe punishments, will cherish you with heavenly dew, and feed you with the sweetness of the promised good.

Until the great favour of God shall recall your happy soul to the heavenly regions, your body being left after the fates of death. Then freed from all labour, then joyfully beholding the angelic choirs, and the blessed companies of saints in perpetual bliss, it shall reign with me in the happy abode of perpetual peace.

Embrace

It's been a long rough road, and the burden has been anything but light.

A year ago I had a "revelation" that I might be called to be a Passionist Nun. I went to my spiritual director, wrote to the Passionists in Kentucky for info. They responded via email, I responded in turn, then heard nothing more.Several weeks passed, and at the time I was having some technical problems with my email, so I re-sent my response and apologized if duplicate, explaining the email situation.Still nothing.

I realized it was a slammed door, and that slammed door was a bit devastating to me.Things worked out, though, and I went on other visits to other communities who invited me to visit even without my request.It was a good experience, if a hard one, and I returned home with much to ponder.

Then last fall, I entered a pretty deep "depression", so conflicted within myself, so confused as to what God was asking, certain He was calling me to religious life...but I didn't want to go. It was horrible; I wasn't certain of anything, but all I knew was that I was rejecting God, and I didn't know why. I was bitter, I was angry (bitter and angry are my default settings, as it seems), and couldn't seem to climb out of the pit from Hell I'd fallen into.

Slowly, though, the clouds cleared, I came back out by God's grace and went back into "I want to do God's will no matter how much I think it sucks" mode, which, in that case meant remaining single...or religious life. Whatever. Two sides of the same awful coin.  (And yes, I saw all my options as awful. I still do.)

Over Christmas break when I finally had time to read and pray for"fun", the contemplative life again tugged at my heart and soul. I couldn't ignore it. I've since written to a couple contemplative communities, one of them being the Passionists in St. Louis Missouri.

To my surprise, I received a wonderful, welcoming and joyful letter in return. Enthused by their response I wrote my own long letter...and couldn't seem to actually send it. I went back and edited, printed it, stuff  it in an envelope, addressed it...and it still sits on my kitchen table. Two months later.

I feel rude. Very rude. But...I can't pop a stamp on that thing and send it. I CAN'T.

Their reaction was so blessedly different than the canned response I got from Kentucky followed by a non-response, and here I am, NOW the one giving the non-response.

Eventually I need to respond and explain my delay, and I know they will understand. After all, they're in the business of discernment and don't want anyone there who doesn't belong there. And really...I don't belong there.

Today I was at a morning retreat and spent an hour praying a Passionist devotion; a Chaplet of the Wounds of Christ. Over and over again. It was in that repetition that I came to realize that, well...God wants me to embrace the Cross, but not in that particular way. It's time to close the door on my end and make it stop swinging this time.  I'm letting go of this particular idea. I am not called to be a Passionist Nun, so that particular romance is over.  That does not mean I don't love meditating on the Passion and the Cross. It means only that I am not called to reside in that terrible and joyful shadow.

Wounded Bride

In June, God willing, I'll be awarded my Master's degree, finally, if I can actually make it through or over this brutal wall of the last few months. As it is, every time I open one of my books I go cross-eyed and my brain goes into some kind of a coma. I am assured this is normal for last-semester graduate students at any level and in any degree field.

Still, the closer we get to our end date, the more I ponder why I am receiving this degree. I don't know what it's for. I don't know how I'm going to pay the loans, especially given that no one will hire me but the Church...and the Church isn't interested in paying my graduate school, or my undergrad loans, for that matter. In fact, the Church isn't interested in paying my mortgage or my electric bill or anything else.

So why have I spent three years elevating my debt?  Why? It sure doesn't help me enter religious life if that's what I'm called to.  I laugh to think of all the times people have queried either to me or to others, or just randomly about the idea in general, "Is this just an escape from real life?"

HA!

I've never seen religious life as an "escape" as much as the secularists love to offer that idea. Having explored religious life, it is ANYTHING but an "escape"!  Rather, it is life lived with far more intensity and  purity than anyone can find in the so-called "real world."

Even as I sense an attraction to the contemplative life, I am surrounded by the open wounds of the Mystical Body of Christ, and I find myself doing "damage control" here and there. I recall my training as an EMT and remember the chapter on Triage. Some days, I think that's all I'm doing.

Being Catholic is like an eternal September 11 (which as you may recall, I remember quite poignantly due to my Job at the time.)  Or maybe it's like being an army medic on the battlefield of a war with no end, in every time in history, all at once. The only thing the Faithful can do is to respond to the horrific wounds resulting to people who are victims of society and culture, even as so-called "friendly fire" continues to shell the city, and buildings continue to fall, and looters continue to take what isn't theirs until a building finally lands on them...and we are called to address their crushed limbs as well.

A friend of mine (CK) once advanced the question of how we would react if the wounds of the souls around us were visible as physical wounds; how would that change our reaction to them?

I go a step further...how would that change our understanding of the intent of Vatican II?

It's the difference between putting leeches on a man who is in hypovolemic shock and bleeding out (hello United Nations One World Government) or offering our own veins to be sapped of our blood to give to the wounded through IV's and personal treatment according to need...and Salvation.  And bringing them home to care for them ourselves. Bringing them into OUR Family...the Church.

There isn't anything in between.

Missionary

The Church is nothing if she does not live up to our Mission to the world.  This is the responsibility of all of us.

So often, this Missionary focus of Vatican II is interpreted solely as a response to physical need, but in our culture, in our politics, in our health care, the real need isn't physical; it's spiritual.

America isn't imploding and falling apart at the seams because of poverty; we are imploding because of a spiritual need that is not being fulfilled.

We have to remember that the works of mercy are both physical and spiritual, and right now, we have an overabundance of people wreaking havoc trying address physical needs of the world while they themselves are impoverished in their own spiritual deprivation.  Even as they seek to help the poor, they are limited and they are failing because they cannot give what they do not have:  spiritual health.

While praying today, I begged God to tell me what He wants me to do. Why am I getting this degree? To go into a cloister?

As I read the letter from the Passionists again, one of the things that unsettled me the most, I think, was Sister's comment about my education; great fruit for contemplation, but maybe a source of frustration for those who do not actually care about theological education.

I can't see God educating me to send me to a dead end where it will not be used (as dear Sister seemed to hint;  they aren't interested in theological studies in that particular monastery.) God MUST want this degree to go to some use, to build up His kingdom. Otherwise I'm nothing more than a welfare kid holding an expensive piece of paper with no actual value to anyone but me...and if it's just for me, it's of no value whatsoever.

We never really possess anything, and nothing has any value if it is not shared with another.
We can't give what we don't have, and we don't have anything until we can give it away.

I no longer have any passion at all. Not for religious life, not for anything.

I am at an impasse; I know I am called to respond to the spiritual deprivation in our society. I know that the best and most noble response is the contemplative life. I know I am not called to the physical missionary fields, yet, I am missionary for as a Catholic my mission is to all who are lost...and the lost are EVERYWHERE. Not thousands of miles away.

More and more, I think that maybe I am called to visit another monastery, but only so it can be put aside; I think God calls me to maintain a presence in the world, using what I've learned in practical ways, for there is a lot to be done, and few hands willing to do it.

I stand this Lent, at the foot of the Cross, in my arrogance telling Jesus what I will and what I will not do and He bears me in patience while He bleeds and gasps for air.

Yet my own hands still hold rocks and sand and gravel as I say to Jesus, "I can't do any more than this. I have to hold on to this stuff."

Then Jesus Crucified opens His own hands with great effort, in excruciating pain, struggling against the muscle spasms, and tells me, "If I can do this...you can drop what you hold...and embrace the same cross and the same nails I release right now."

No....I don't have any passion for anything at all.  Instead, Jesus has brought me into His own....and He will direct the outcome.

Thank you, Jesus.

Jesus, Take Me With You!

A few months ago, while praying during Mass, as I gazed upon the crucifix after Communion, I found myself asking Jesus to take me with Him.  This is a variation of an old prayer from a few years ago, one of those things that spontaneously comes upon us, and we pray it even if we really don't understand what we are really asking in that moment.

This morning while meditating on the mysteries of the rosary, I suddenly understood, at least to some degree, of what I was asking that day, and as I continued to pray, it all began to make sense.  As always, God's timing is impeccable.

Jesus answered my prayer long before I ever prayed it.

When Jesus went down into the Jordan river, He took on His mission, giving his formal fiat, taking us and the sins of the whole world upon His shoulders. His baptism is symbolic of his acceptance of death, through which we must all descend, and his rising from the waters points to the resurrection.  As He took us with Him into the river, so, too must we die so that we can rise again with Jesus in the resurrection. 

That means that when Jesus went into the Jordan to be Baptized....He took me with Him.

When Jesus preached His Sermon on the Mount, He was speaking directly to me and telling me not to live only according to the minimum requirements, but to go deeper, sacrifice more, and become more and more human. 

When Jesus healed the lepers, restored the sight of the blind man, and exorcised demons, he tooke me with him in tow to show me that it's not actually about physical healing, but spiritual, and that's what He REALLY wants to offer. And so I went with Him into the Confessional so that I, too, could become a sign to the world of His mercy and forgiveness. 

When Jesus broke bread and gave thanks, when He washed the feet of the Apostles, He brought me with Him there, too, to reveal the beginning of the Mass and the origins of the ordained Priesthood, so that not only would I recognize the fulfillment of the Covenant when he died on the Cross the next day, but I would recognize God's own authority in His ministers, and the ongoing presence of Christ in the Mass and in all the Sacraments, especially the Holy Eucharist.

When Jesus prayed and wept in the Garden of Gethsemane, He took me with Him for He was not just weeping over my sin and those of the whole world, but He was fully entering into and taking on our own suffering so that He could weep WITH us and not just FOR us. 

When Jesus went before Pilate, He took me with him so that I, too, could choose to either wash my hands and walk away, or instead, become docile to His love and become the Cross that He carried for my salvation.

When Jesus was scourged at the pillar, He took me with him so that I would know the selflessness of love and the sacrifice that restores true dignity.

When Jesus was crowned with thorns, He took me with Him so that in his degradation, I would be brought to my knees, desiring to offer mercy to Mercy Himself, reaching out to remove the thorns He wore to fulfill the punishment for sin, only to find them piercing my own hands, drawing my own blood, helping me to enter into the suffering of my Savior.

When Jesus walked the road to Calvary, He took me with Him upon His own back, and only fell because I did and the weight of my sin was so heavy he condescended to fall even lower than I so that I would not be lost forever. 

When Jesus was nailed to the Cross, He took me with Him so that I would recognize the impact of sin not just on myself, but upon the world, for which He was willingly being sent to His innocent death.

When Jesus was lifted up on the Cross, He brought me with Him for He drew me into His embrace and gave me rest under the shadow of His wings, where I begged to remain, for I recognized the Cross as my only defense.

Yes, Jesus HAS taken me with Him, every bloody, painful, wretched, agonizing step of the way.  In spite of my obstinance, in spite of my rebellion, in spite of my willful disobedience.  He has taken me with Him and has not let me out of His sight, even when I tried to hide from Him. 

The price He paid for my redemption was so great that He would not, could not, let me go.  He chose instead to suffer in patience, knowing that my hardened and fickle heart could be softened, that His love could overcome my rebellion, and that one day, I might still have a chance to return to Him with all my heart, all my soul, and give Him my whole life.

He asks for nothing less. And I ask for nothing more.
*

Take me with you, Jesus.  Always.

Amen.

Living the Paradox of the Cross

We can't get away from it. Even people who profess to be Catholic deny the glory of the Cross in favor of the gospel of "positive thinking".

There are some who still cannot, or simply refuse, to accept the paradox of folly and glory that belongs to our Redemption through the Cross of Christ.

Today at work, a co-worker popped into our office to indulge, as he always does, in a salty snack we keep in a cookie jar for visitors such as himself.  I was headed down the hallway at the same time as he, and commented that I can't have those fun snacks anymore. I wasn't lamenting, but rather recognizing the joy in choosing something greater than a pleasure of the flesh. (And believe me, I LOVE those salty snacks, which is why I'm giving them up for lent, and yes, it IS already a struggle!).  I thought nothing of my comments for, we are all Catholics and we are all quite familiar and often joke about our chosen lenten penances.

Apparently I was wrong to be so comfortable, for condemnation came quickly. 

The co-worker surprised me.  He accused me (yes, that's the right word), ACCUSED me of "taking a negative attitude."  I disagreed and explained that deprivation is a very important part of the theology of Lent. He insisted that it was "negative" and asked why I don't take up another practice (and here he surprised me) such as praying the Rosary every day, making it "positive"?

I explained that first of all, I ALREADY pray the Rosary every day, and secondly, that depriving ourselves of something is positive, for it enables a place for Christ to enter into our own deprivation and fulfill it in a new way.

And he walked away saying that he deprives himself of leisure time by praying the Rosary...yet somehow didn't seem to understand that my deprivation of salty foods is the same thing.  While he condemned my choice of phrase and focus, that of deprivation, he eventually admitted to doing the same thing in another way!

I understand that he's trying to be "positive" as a lot of modern "Catholic" theology exhorts one to be, and yes, I agree with the need to be positive, but with a caveat:  we can't forget the price of our ability to be positive!

Why do we deprive ourselves for Lent?

This gets to the heart of Lent, and the heart of misunderstanding that is often perpetuated during this very holy season.  While I agree it is important to maintain a joyful focus, we cannot forget the price in blood that paid for our salvation, and I advance that it is IMPORTANT to recall the suffering and death of our Lord, to enter into it as fully as possible so that we can more fully live out His life here on earth!

There are many ways to explain why we choose to give up something during Lent, so perhaps it's best to point out the historicity of the season as a starting point.

We begin Lent with a Gospel reading from Luke 4: 1-13, about the baptism of Jesus and His venture into the desert/wilderness to face temptation.  We enter this Gospel having already begun this season, having already taken stock of our own need to join Our Lord in this time of prayer and penance and sacrifice in preparation for what God has to offer us in 40 days.

During Lent, we are invited into the same deprivation faced by Jesus. Because we can't all flee our lives and populate the desert as hermits, we are instead called to fast, pray, and give alms.  In our fasting, we must fast from some legitimate good that is in our lives (or if it has become sinful, we are called to recognize that and seek to eradicate it). We are called to allow that deprivation to create a "hollow" place within us where Our Lord can enter the rot of our souls and purify it, becoming united to us through out weaknesses.  We are called to in turn, take that deprivation and turn it into a benefit for someone else, through time, through money saved, or through our own God-given abilities, to benefit and build the Kingdom of God.

If we truly love God, we will fruitfully love others and enable the ongoing live of the Church and the spread of Christianity.  None of this can be done without giving fully of ourselves in true charity, which at its heart requires us to be deprived of our worldly attachments in some way.

To say we are "giving something up" may seem in the parlance of the "Positive Thinker" cult to be "negative", but in reality, it is only a way to make room for something far greater!

Lent helps us to get rid of the clutter that serves only as a barrier to Christ in order to let Him in to order our lives more perfectly. It helps us, each year, to come closer and closer to Him, purifying ourselves to better receive Him, to conform to Him...and to better take Him into the world that so desperately needs Jesus and the message of the Gospel!

Oh, the Folly!

In my co-worker today, in our brief conversation, I recognized a ghost of the heresy of the early days that denied the triumph of the Cross, that sought to turn Jesus into a mere apparition, the Cross into a Broadway play even before Broadway was known.  In some of the early heresies, Christ was made into anything other than what He really was, for when we look upon the reality of God become Man, the God we killed and abandoned upon the Gibbet, the blood-stained Gibbet that both condemns and elevates us, well....it's not an easy reality.  It's much easier to deny Truth than to approach and embrace it.

It's much easier to seek any explanation OTHER than the real one, especially if the reality is folly to the comfortable beliefs of the majority of the world around us that refuses to believe.

And there, again, is the folly and the Glory of the Cross. 

We enter into Lent to become abandoned ourselves in the face of the world that ridicules our ashes, our practices, and our deprivations, exhorting us to "be positive!" even as we seek to enter into and become united not just with the shadow, but with the reality of the Cross itself!  We seek to abandon ourselves to God in a world that seeks to control us by demanding we "take control!" only in accordance with their arbitrary preferences.  We seek abandonment in a world that becomes more and more totalitarian, and less and less tolerant to any religion that professes the Cross of Christ.

We should not expect the world to understand, but rather to offer our sufferings and encounters for the salvation of souls...including our own.  When we are harshly judged, we must recall those times that we have harshly judged others, and seek absolution for ourselves while we in turn remember that we must live heroic forgiveness.

That's what I said:  Heroic Forgiveness.

What I find hardest to bear in this season isn't the denial and the ridicule of secularists and non-Catholics, but the outright denial and in-your-face hostility of those who claim the Catholic Faith.  I expect hostility from the world, and solidarity in my closest brothers and sisters.  Rather, I tend to experience the opposite, for the Catholic world has been so infected with the heresies of the ages that those who seek to embrace the Cross are denounced, called out as "antiquated" and directed to let go of "irrelevance".

I do not want to live in a world where the Cross is irrelevant. I do not want to embrace a world that denies the necessity of salvation while claiming the more attractive trappings for the purpose of personal self-seeking comfort.

And yet..it is just such a world that we are all called to embrace, for it is the same world into which God was born and redeemed through His Cross and Resurrection.

As I recall, Our Lord did not suffer mere comfort in serving to pay the Divine Justice through His Mercy for the sake of our eternal Redemption.

As I recall, the deprivations of Christ far surpassed any deprivations we might suffer as mere humans.

As I recall, there was nothing "fun" or "entertaining" but for the most bloodthirsty and evil in the Passion and Crucifixion of Our Lord.

As I recall, Jesus began the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass at the Last Supper where He instituted the Priesthood in the formal Ordination of the Apostles, and offered the first Homily in union with His Eternal Sacrifice as He died on the Cross.

In light of the holiness and solemnity of the Passion of Christ, the price paid for our Redemption, I don't see how my giving up salty foods or a few other things can be seen as a "negative" approach to Lent. Rather, I see it as being quite insufficient and am quite embarrassed at my own meager offering. What I give up, I give up with a sense of deprivation, but also in joy at the freedom to do so, looking towards the Joy of the Resurrection, for I do not see these present sufferings as anything other than the grace of God which allows me to participate more deeply into to the most important moment of human history.

If that is folly, then condemn me for my folly, for I'd rather be a Fool in the eyes of the world than Irrelevant in the eyes of God. Give me my deprivations, for they are greater gifts than the emptiness of the false happiness of the world.  And give me this ungrateful and hostile world to embrace, for if that is what Christ did...so must we all who profess to follow Him.

Please, Lord, give us the grace to LIVE the Paradox of the Cross! 

Thank You, Jesus

Entitled

I went to a Catholic College where, as at any college or university, there was a mix of students from several states, regions, and economic statuses.  As I recall, several of us used to comment on the sometimes shocking behavior or attitudes of those students that came from the wealthier suburbs of Chicago or other cities. We often snarked that they were always being bailed out by "Mommy and Daddy", and so never held to account for anything.

Truly there were some students who seemed to have no sense of the real world, so sheltered had they been by their parents' wealth.  One famous example from my class year came from a sociology class. A somewhat heated debate was raging with regard to male and female roles in the home, and there were passions on all sides. Finally one particular girl raised her hand and when given the opportunity, stated in honest astonishment, "I don't understand what the problem is! Why don't they just have the maid do it?"

The entire class fell silent in stunned disbelief. Was she SERIOUS?

Indeed, she was.  I do believe she learned a great deal during college and while completing her required internships, etc., about the plight of the everyday life of men and women everywhere, and that most people don't have maids. Anywhere.

I am ashamed to say, however, that even as I laugh at the incident now and even somewhat nostagically recall discussions with my friends on the "spoiled brats" at my college and everywhere...well, my house is made of glass, too.

Maybe it finally shattered today. At the very least, it cracked all over and will have to be replaced.

Sure, I grew up poor and "maid" was the word Mom used when establishing her role as Mother and not servant of we messy children. And sure, I had to work my butt off to pay for college (a debt that STILL has about $5,000 left to be paid off, but let's not discuss the grad school loans that will come due in 6 months on top of that...), but even so, I have just as big a sense of entitlement as those students did.

Oh, yes, my sense of entitlement is HUGE. I don't know where it came from, but have to admit it was in place even when I went to college.  I got financial aid and loans because I EXPECTED it and decided I DESERVED it. I decided I DESERVED to go to college, then DESERVED to get a good job with my degree...and on down the line.  Losing my "dream job" early on, the one I worked so hard for, was actually as devastating as it was because of my overdeveloped sense of entitlement.

The Human Plague of Hidden Hubris

If we all truly look at ourselves, we will recognize this same hubris. Maybe the rich kids in school had their entitlement influenced by their family's money or importance or other factor. But we poor kids, well, our likewise overdeveloped sense of entitlement (and the obvious superiority I described above) arose from knowing there was money for us because of our poverty, and the mistaken sense that we were "better" because we'd learned "values" and a "work ethic" from our working-class/ impoverished families.

Just last night, and a little today, some co-workers and I were speaking of this sense of entitlement we all have, how our pride gets in the way of all the different things we think we need to control. Not just out of a proper perspective of turning out a good product, doing good work, etc., but how the outcome reflects upon US in the eyes of OTHERS.

It's very easy to fall into the trap of doing some kind of good work or advancing some kind of program not for the good of the parish or the city or the school or other group, but out of a sense of misguided Pride in ourselves.  Although we may start out with the proper intent and ends in mind, it is very easy to lose focus and continually die to ourselves.  What may have started out as a meritorious thing can quickly descend into an occasion for Pride, in which we are seeking our own glory, instead of God's.

All of us seem to think we're actually entitled to a good reputation, respect and esteem of others! 

The last time I checked, though, holiness has NOTHING to do with how we appear in the eyes of others or what they think of us.  It has nothing to do with whether we have college degrees or a big house or even whether we live in an abandoned van down by the river with seven homeless cats and a wounded bird.

Perhaps one of the first things we need to really evaluate in ourselves is our sense of entitlement, and how ingrained it is in everything we think, how we live, what we do...in every moment.  Why do we get impatient when sitting in traffic?  Entitlement. Why do we get impatient when waiting for someone to call us back?  Entitlement. Why do we become put out when someone stops by our office without an appointment when the time might be inconvenient to us?  Entitlement.  Why do we become upset when someone else wants to use the computer or the phone or the TV?   Entitlement.

The Truth is this:  we have a lot more importance in our own eyes than we do in another person's estimation of us as they evaluate priorities in the circumstances of their own lives.  The unfortunate reality of human nature is that we ALL suffer from this plague of entitlement, and we feel put-out or put-upon when someone else's own sense of entitlement happens to collide with ours, literally or figuratively.  In our own tendency to be wrapped up in our own affairs and hubris, we actually forget the virtues of justice, mercy, and humility, all bound together by charity...which reminds us that true holiness is deferring to others and remembering we are called to serve, not to BE served.

NECESSARY ASIDE: 

Fr. S. at Clerical Reform has an INCREDIBLE post on this particular facet of Pride today.  Go read it!  I have to admit I  found his post to be timely given my ponderings and realizations of the last few days, am grateful for his commentary, and would love to sit down with a cup of coffee and discuss the theological implications of this very large topic with him.  Ah, the limitations of the internet:  often human interaction is limited. But then again, who ever said we were even entitled to the internet?  More on this in a moment....

Pride in Discernment 

As I wrote this post, another point hit me pretty hard, and because I know I am not alone in facing the difficulty of vocational discernment, I have decided to bring it up as well.

I've written before of the GIFT of Vocation, that it is something unmerited, and it's something I often forget to consider as I continually seek God's will for me.  I often complain about how hard it is, how exhausting, and how much I wish I could just put it aside and just "move on" with my life.  Never mind the fact that I can't "move on" if I don't know where I'm going!

Thus, in my prayers and thoughts this afternoon, I queried, "Why do some of us struggle so much with discovering our Vocation?"

The Answer:   Entitlement.

Ouch. Oh....ouch. Ow. Bleeding profusely now, and deservedly so.

When, exactly, did I get a sense of entitlement about such a great gift as a Vocation?  And when did I lose sight of the fact that the very SEARCH for it is a HUGE grace from God?

I've been realizing, more and more, how BIG my sense of entitlement is, and it's a painful process to evaluate everything in my life, taking a look in that mirror of my own estimation in my eyes, and recognizing I've been staring at my image in a distorted circus mirror for a very long time. 

The Remedy

Everything is Grace. Everything is a personal Gift from God.

There's nothing new here, nothing I haven't seen or read or heard, and it's nothing new to you, either. 

Maybe the problem is that even though it's not new, I've become so fascinated with the circus mirror that I  never put it aside long enough to actually embrace the reality of my own lack of importance in the face of God. Now that my perspective (again, by Grace) has been changed a little, now I can internalize, maybe, the Truth.

Yes, Jesus died for me, and my struggle with accepting that comes from the same pride that makes me depend too much on myself for everything. It's that sense of entitlement, that, at its core, is whispering, "You don't NEED a Savior...you're ENTITLED to one!"

Oh, it's painful to realize this, but necessary.

If we don't put this terrible, soul-killing, disordered sense of entitlement aside, we can't ever learn to depend on God. The loving God who knows our pride and our lack of humility, but STILL chose to die on the Cross especially in the face of our hostile lack of gratitude.

I'm going to continue pondering this, for as long as it takes. It will take YEARS to root out all the tendrils of entitlement that have taken over my life, but I'd rather spend the time NOW than have it burned away from me in the purifying fires of Purgatory. Which, by the way, is yet another Mercy of God's Justice that I don't deserve and to which I am not entitled.

Everything is a gift. Every moment. Every "inconvenience", every blessing.

Thank you, Jesus.  

Amen. 

Pondering the Wound of Charity

For a couple weeks now I've been thinking about love, and by that term, I mean Charity. This comes partially from my Moral Theology class regarding the Theological Virtue of Charity, and partially from my own musings over time on the Passion of Our Lord.

It should go without saying that when I look upon the Crucifix, I see love in its most pure form. There, in that moment, is contained....EVERYTHING. Even I, in my utter insignificance and desolation am caught up and drawn in to those Holy Wounds, becoming even less so that He can be revealed as more.

While attending a talk, some of the words of the priest who was speaking struck me and caused my "contemplative" side to make a connection. Nothing new or interesting, but only one of those little arrows from God that we all experience from time to time, when a teaching is suddenly internalized.

REAL Charity Wounds

I considered how real Charity creates a wound, a blessed wound that continually bleeds in such a way that it can't be staunched. This is not a "mushy" love, but rather, a type of pain not held inward, but expressed outwardly, like the very gush of arterial blood. It can't be contained. Yet the more it gushes, instead of causing mortal death, it rather is the very expression of the font of life.

Every so often I feel that blessed wound, and know that it has changed me. At times the bleeding is only a trickle. At times I staunch the wound myself with my sin, cutting myself off, refusing to serve the Lord. I let the blood flow clot, I wrap it up and I turn away.

It is only through the Sacrament of Confession that I bring that bandage in to be removed, for through God's grace, He reminds me of His own deep love for me, prompting me to realize that I cannot stop this flow and SHOULD not, for by bleeding, my own blood is united with that of Jesus.

I go to Confession and reveal this encrusted, infected bandage, this terrible blockage, this monstrous clot to the priest, who removes it gently and tells me how to let this blood of Charity flow more perfectly, how to, through this wonderful wound, unite myself to the eternal Word who waits only for me to stop placing obstacles in His way.

For when my blood, in this sense, flows, it is truly His, not mine. This wound that in life would be mortal death, in the Spirit, belongs to the mystical nature of our supernatural relationship with our Beloved Savior.

As He suffered and died, so are we all called to do, according to His Most Holy and Divine Will. Not on the natural plane, but the supernatural.

Purity of Love

I have been pondering my own dedication to Jesus, the purity of my love for Him. I have such a devotion to His Passion, and prefer to look upon the bloodiest of crucifixes to remind myself of the blood He shed...for me. I have a hard time accepting that very personal sacrifice, that it was done for ME.

In all honesty, I have a hard time considering that ANYONE would die for me, for I don't think I am worth such a sacrifice. I get caught up in looking at my nothingness, my sins of omission, my lack of importance in the world. Why would ANYONE think my life would be worth THAT sacrifice??? What a waste!

I find it hard to believe anyone would find ME worth dying for. If they were pondering it, I'd stop them and put my own head into the noose, or point the deadly scimitar to my own heart.

In my Pride, I wouldn't let anyone die for me so personally, for if I ever met someone so magnanimous, I would want them to live for they could contribute so much more to the world than me. Someone so brave is worth far more than me. It is I who should go...not them. In fact, I've experienced this, in part...a story for another post.

In any case, I didn't have a choice in the Sacrifice of Christ, did I? So I realize in that thought process that I think as Man thinks, not as God thinks. The God who called me out of eternity, through love and into being, continues to hold me in existence, and in fact, DIED for me on the Cross! In spite of who I am and who I am not.

The more I ponder the Cross, the more I love God, the more I understand the necessity of sacrifice, the more I expect the "curse" of suffering. For in order to be conformed to Christ, we have to suffer and become the Accursed ourselves.

Why Do I Love?

My own Love, my own Charity is imperfect.

The other night, while praying Compline before bed, I gazed upon the Crucifix and upon my picture of Jesus in His Agony. His love for US isn't in question. His very personal love for ME isn't put to the test; it has been clearly defined.

Rather, I considered the hierarchical nature of creation, of the Church, of love itself, and how God's own love begets love. We return to Him what He gives us, and the more we return, the more we grow. The more we allow to flow through us, the more we are given. The font of charity never decreases, but only becomes greater, even if it were to flood the world, it would not be enough.

I looked upon Our Lord and wondered: Do I love Him ONLY because of what He did for me? Is my love for Jesus dependent upon His Sacrifice on my behalf? If so, then it means I only love Him for what He has done for me. It means that my litmus test for God is, "What have you done for me lately"?

Do I love Jesus ONLY for what He did for my Benefit?

Can that be accurate? If so....how SELFISH!

I had to seriously consider that. Am I in love with Jesus just because He is the ONLY one who would ever die for me?

If so...my love is conditional. My love is based ONLY upon something that He DID...not who He IS.

That ISN'T love. Love isn't selfish.

I had to ask myself: if Jesus had NOT died upon the Cross for me, would I still love God? Or would I be selfishly looking for benefits of knowing Him?

Where is my focus? Am I just "receiving" or am I willing to GIVE?

Am I bleeding freely in union with Christ...or am I placing a barrier between my own personal sacrifice and anyone who might benefit from my immolation?

When I look back at the Prophets, at the great Women of Israel; they operated on Faith. They loved God not for what He DID for them, but for Who He IS. Even the Prophets, BEFORE they knew God, loved Him. Before they were privy to the Divine Processions...loved God in a particular purity of heart and intention. They knew the Mystery and loved because they recognized God was worthy of their Love...even before the Sacrifice.

The recognized God, they loved Him, and they poured their ENTIRE BEING out for Him on behalf of their people. It was THEIR sacrifice that preceeded HIS. It was THEIR Sacrifice that was proleptic of HIS and in fact, it was HIS Sacrifice that made theirs both meaningful and possible.

It was their FAITH expressed through WORKS that called down God's Justice. They raised their souls to Him and let their blood flow in a fountain we recognize even today. They sacrificed themselves in divine Charity, Hoping in what they could not see, having Faith in what they did not experience.

That wound of charity, that wound that comes only through the love of Christ Himself, binds mystically as it flows.

It is no wonder this doesn't make sense to the natural world, for it seems oppositional. Yet it is, as we read in the Gospels, that we lose what we try to gain and gain what we are willing to lose.

I realize that I do not love Jesus as I ought. I recognize that my love for Him is conditional, for my blood does not flow freely. I keep bandages on hand so I can stop the arterial rush when it becomes too much for me. I reserve that flow for my own desires, rather than trusting in God. In my imperfection, as that blood overflows, I don't recognize it as grace, but as my life leaving my control and so I grasp even at impure wrappings to slow it all down.

I do not love God as I ought. I have been deeply wounded by the Charity of Our Lord, but instead of letting the blood flow from me as it did from His wounds and His side, I bind it up in fear and trepidation.

Oh, that Jesus would rip those bandages away and force me to hold my hands outward so that His love could overflow!

Why, oh WHY can I not TRUST in His Divine Salvation?

Why, oh Why do I try to staunch the wound given to me through His Love?

Why, oh Why, can I not love as I ought, and why do I attach conditions upon what I am willing to give in spite of what has been so freely given?

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!

Embraced by the Word

This evening I found myself at the Cathedral, not initially intending to attend Mass, but rather to just take a break and pray in silence. But I heard Mass begin and decided to leave the Chapel of Mary and enter into the Sacred Liturgy. As I listened to the readings and pondered them in the context of my surroundings, suddenly I was struck by the inherent symbolism of the Cathedral. With my Liturgy midterm exam so fresh in my mind, I considered all the important elements of the liturgy, to include the building itself, all pointing to a God that contains everything.

I regarded the four pillars that hold up the dome of the Cathedral, representing the 4 Gospels. I looked anew at the angels and the depictions of the Virtues. I could see the image of the Holy Spirit over the Baldacchin, and...oh, the Baldacchin! To consider that indeed we are present at the Wedding Feast of the Lamb of God! There, right there, we beheld Christ the King, held up, drawing us all to Him, as He promised!

Today, from my particular vantage point at the rear, I had an entirely different view of the altar and the Crucifix which seems somewhat obscured when sitting in the front section, was quite prominent, such that I could not take my eyes off of it. I know that to enter into the Wedding Feast, I must approach the Cross.

I pondered how often I have hurt Him, and how I don't deserve His love. And yet, being there in the Cathedral, I'd had a sense of the immensity of God. There, surrounded by all the signs and symbols of our Faith, in this incredible building consecrated to God, wherin His Glory rests there in the tabernacle, where we enter into His very Presence, I had a sense of being contained in the Word. Being in the Cathedral is like being WITHIN God, surrounded by Him, embraced by Him...contained there within His ever-present love.

The architecture helps us understand, in a sense His immensity in a way that is nearly tangible, and yet, we still understand that He is not contained there Himself, but far transcends it.

I was so touched by the sense of being contained by His Word that, for awhile, I had to fight back tears. It wasn't sadness or joy, but rather a reaction to a Truth about God that perhaps couldn't be expressed in any other way.

It was a moment of enlightenment, realizing my own nothingness in the face of God, the importance of the Sacrifice of Redemption, offered...even for me. Such a realization always inspires one to want to offer something back, even understanding that anything we can offer is insufficient.

All of this brought me into pondering the Cross most especially as I passed by one of the Stations. It stands out starkly on the marble pillar with nothing to distract from the reality of His Passion: Jesus Accepts His Cross.

There it was. Jesus Accepts His Cross.

The thought came to me, that still small voice that always seems to have far more impact than the loudest shouts: Do I accept my Cross, too?

I silently asked Our Lord how to accept my Cross just as he had accepted his own? I asked Him to explain it to me. How do I embrace it? How do I embrace HIM by embracing my Cross? How can my own acceptance of my Cross in any way repay what He has done for me?

I realized how often I had and continue to presume upon His mercy. I realize how often I REJECT his mercy, and in so doing, wound Him even further. I thought about all the times I had rejected Him, offended Him, and stomped on Him in some way, when all Jesus has ever done for me...was love me. Love me so much He DIED for me, a truly horrible death. I knew that I was Jesus' Cross to bear, and yet...He still bears me. He has not thrown me down and abandoned me to corruption.

Spontaneously a prayer came to me, and I bowed my head to offer it back to Him, knowing that if it was of any value at all, it came from the Holy Spirit within me and it was both wisdom for the benefit of my soul, and a sincere offer to Jesus from the depths of my sinful soul.

Dearest Jesus,

The next time someone presumes upon me in any way, help me to remember all the times I have presumed upon You. The next time someone directly insults me, help me to recall the times I have insulted You or blasphemed against You. The next time someone offends me in any way, help me to recall to mind the times I have willfully, obstinately, and grievously offended You with my deliberate sin. The next time I am tempted to be impatient with someone, help me to recall how often you have been patient with me and how long you have waited for me to return to you in contrition. The next time I move to place myself above another, help me to remember how many times you fell as you walked to Calvary. The next time someone attacks me for any reason, before I give in to anger, help me to remember how You bore Your agony in silence and forgave Your attackers, begging Your Father to forgive them for they knew not what they were doing. Help me to realize that when I offend you, I DO know what I am doing, and yet...you still forgive me, over and over again.

Help me, Jesus, to recall your last words as you hung upon the Cross, dying: "Father, into Your hands I commend my spirit".

Let me arise each morning with this prayer on my lips as a reminder to die to myself in every moment so that I may be free to live for You.

Amen.

The truth is that we embrace our own Crosses by accepting HIS; for they are one and the same. In embracing our Crosses, we recognize who we really are and how desperately we need Our Beloved Savior. The only way to live for Christ is to be willing to die to ourselves and unite our sinfulness with His Passion and Death; only there can we be redeemed.

Jesus, into Your Hands I commend my Spirit.

*

Contemplate the Cross

WHEN you are alone in your room, take your crucifix, kiss its five wounds reverently - tell it to preach you a little sermon and then listen to the words of eternal life that it speaks to your heart; listen to the pleading of the thorns, the nails, the precious Blood. Oh what an eloquent sermon!

~ St. Paul of the Cross, Flowers of the Passion

Today is the Memorial of St. Paul of the Cross, priest and founder of the Passionists. I have a special devotion to him for many reasons, although I am only now beginning to discover his writings. Devotion to the Passion of Our Lord is a rare thing, especially in today's culture that seeks to escape suffering...never to embrace it. Yet in contemplation of Jesus, how can anyone expect to really know and love Him without that perfect unitive love that comes ONLY through suffering?

It is ONLY through suffering that we can know Christ with any real intimacy. He invites us into His Passion, to contemplate His wounds, suffered for love of us. He gave all. The Father looks at us through the wounds of Our Lord, and through those same wounds, we are absorbed into Him and given the grace to rest, completely, within His Most Sacred Heart.

"Love is a unitive virtue which appropriates the sufferings of the Beloved."

Spend some time each day contemplating the Cross, seeking to unite yourself with the Passion of Our Lord. Recall that each time you attend Mass, you are kneeling at the very foot of the Cross, the one and only Sacrifice of Calvary, having just offered yourself as a holocaust in union with

Him. Know what you are seeking, know what is being made present to you, and know that it is possible to be completely lost within the wounds that bring us all to salvation...if we are only willing to drink deeply of that cup so freely offered for our sins.

"Would that I could set the whole world on fire with love of God!"

St. Paul of the Cross....PRAY FOR US!

Imitation of Christ

We can only truly be formed into the image of Christ through suffering. Those who are called to trials and suffering should rejoice in that call, for it is an invitation to enter into a portion of His own suffering.

When we look at our world today, we see the ongoing persecution of the Church. The world hates us. It screeches at us, it wants to force us to conform to their ways, for the holiness of the Church is a standard the world cannot bear. The Church holds up a mirror to them and they see reflected there themselves. Rather than strive for holiness, they howl and cast stones at the mirror held up before them, which does nothing to shatter the Church, but only takes away from them the horrible visage of their own reflection.

It is far easier to cast stones than to turn one's gaze inward and listen to the voice of God who has imprinted the Law upon their hearts. Had He not done this, the experience of the mirror would not be so excruciatingly painful. These souls who experience this, tragically, have no where else to go. They are but the crowds who abandoned Christ, leaving only the remnant disciples with Him...and Jesus let them go.

He let them go so that He could send us out into the world, for thousands of years after His death and resurrection, to bring those souls back.

It is no wonder that so many strike against the Church. It is no wonder that the voice of the world seeks to silence us. It is no wonder that Christians all over the world are being slaughtered for simply following Christ. And it is no wonder that the Christians do not or cannot fight back against these enemies, for wasn't Jesus the lamb who went silently to slaughter?

What we suffer now is nothing more than the Passion of Christ as we walk the road to Calvary.

The Church, the Bride of Christ, is a holy, pure, reality. The fact that this Mystical Body is made up of sinners struggling for holiness is actually a greater sign of God's glory, for this struggle reveals that we are not called to conform to the world, but to Our Bridegroom, Our Savior who, as a wedding gift, gave His own blood so that we might have eternal life.

We, the Bride of Christ, the Church, must become like Christ if we are to carry out His mission, and that means we, too must walk in His bloody footsteps, we must also fall under the weight of the Cross so that He can lift us again and again, until finally, like Him, we the Church, will be lifted up and draw all men into this Mystical Body, in unity.

Jesus desired that all may be one, but that unity will come at a price, one each of us must pay through our own roles in the ongoing history of salvation.

The louder the world screams for our blood, the more glory there is for God and the more credibility the Church will have as we walk this triumphant road to Calvary to enter into the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.

Let us work then, to imitate Jesus, and not the world. Let their cries fall on deaf ears as we keep our eyes on the Cross and Resurrection. It is through this journey that we will, more and more, be conformed to Christ, both personally and in unity, as His Bride.

Cross and Sorrow

I have a huge devotion to Our Mother of Perpetual Help, and am also developing a deep devotion, consistent with the Passionist spirituality, of devotion to Our Lady of Sorrows, whose memorial we celebrate today.

Recently in my Mariology class, the connection was made for me between OLPH and Our Lady of Sorrows. One of the two possible Gospel readings today spoke of the prophecy at the presentation of Christ at the Temple, where Simeon praised God even as he revealed to the Mother of God that her own heart would be pierced.

When we look upon an icon, any icon, we are drawn in to the mystery through the eyes of those portrayed. Our Lady of Perpetual Help portrays the Mystery of our Redemption as she holds the child Jesus, who sought comfort in her arms as the shadow of the Cross and the implements of his crucifixion and torture fell over him. The very point that pierced the side of Christ was the very same as that which pierced her own heart. She is revealed both in the cited gospel

and the other for today, her presence at the Cross, as the Mother of Sorrows.

She invites us into that sorrow, for she is our mother and knows that without sorrow, without suffering, there can be no redemption. We are invited to penetrate the Mystery of our salvation by becoming a willing part of it.

So you see, it is no surprise that the Memorial of Our Mother of Sorrows follows upon the Feast of the Exultation of the Cross.

Although so many want to look at the Crucifixion of Christ as a one-time event (which it was), they ignore the second part of the teaching on the Cross; that we are called to it as well. We cannot experience the exultation without the experience of sorrow, for Christ Himself was a man of sorrows. Consider His Agony in the Garden; His sorrow in recognizing the need for our redemption was so great that it was not His Passion that caused Him to sweat blood, but the reality of sin in the world. It was that reality that made His Passion and Death necessary, and even as He meditated upon the sin of the past and future from that point....Jesus said yes.

But Our Lady had to say Yes before Jesus could in His humanity. It is said that "All of heavenand earth held their breath" awaiting her fiat to the Angel Gabriel. Our Blessed Mother greatly pondered the greeting of the angel, and in her humility bowed her head and said, "I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be done to me according to Thy Word." And the Word was made flesh, the living Torah, as the Holy Spirit overshadowed Mary just as God had once overshadowed Mt. Sinai, the tents of the Hebrews in the desert, and the Ark of the Covenant, and the Holy of Holies. He overshadowed her and she conceived, saying "Yes" not just to that moment, but to every moment.

Mary didn't just say "yes" to bearing the Messiah, but to everything that came with that. When we gaze upon icons portraying our Redemption, we realize that she said yes to that, to sharing Our Lord's suffering, and that of the entire Church. We see her ongoing fiat as, in the Gospel of John, she remained at the foot of the Cross when all but the Apostle John had long run away. She remained, keeping vigil in her great sorrow, trusting in the Triumph of her Son

...for she knew who He was.

Mary is the woman of Revelation 12, whose offspring (Jesus) was taken up to heaven as she fled into the desert, and the dragon (Satan), angry, went off to make war on her offspring. It is we, the Church, who are her offspring. That day, at the foot of the Cross, Jesus gave her to John, who Himself stood in for Christ, and Mary, for the Church. At Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit overshadowed she and the Apostles together, the day we celebrate as the birthday of the Church, we see her expanded maternity.

Mary is the woman of Genesis , John and Revelation who is in travail; not at the birth of Christ, but at the foot of the Cross and forever after that. Her greatest suffering comes not from a single point of agony, but from the reality of sin in the lives of her children, we, the adopted sons and daughters of God. She is in travail because we run from the Cross, and she calls us back, pointing to Christ, pointing to the Cross, for our redemption is there.

We cannot run from that shadow, for no matter how far we go, we cannot escape suffering. It is only through understanding the suffering and triumph of the Cross that we can give definition to our own sorrows. It is the Cross that brings us through everything that comes our way, and there, in union with Christ, it is overcome.

Psalm 57 reveals this truth:

Have mercy on me, O Lord, have mercy.

Under the shadow of your wings

I will take refuge

Until the storms of destruction pass by

We must be willing to flee to the shadow of His wings and embrace the Cross, letting it change us. Let the Cross be our guide, recognize the suffering of Our Lord that brings us through that terrible Cross and into His Glory.

Look at Our Mother of Sorrows, perhaps in the comforting light of Our Mother of Perpetual Help. She gazes at us, pointing to Christ, but inviting us into the mystery, her own sorrow exposed. She invites us to join her Son, to feel the cold shadow of the Cross and know that it is our destiny as well, if we would only stop running away.

Will we let our own hearts be pierced, or will we continue to flee, to fight the suffering that in the end, if we embrace it, conforms us to Christ Himself?

If we aren't willing to live the Cross, we will never find our way to eternal life.

Lord, by Your cross and resurrection, you have set us free. You are the Savior of the world.

Our Mother of Sorrows....pray for us!

Participation in the Cross

Our Divine Savior has deposited His richest graces in the cross and He will impart them to us only through our particular participation in His cross and suffering. When Jesus desire to enter our souls and unite us to Himself, he accomplishes it only through the Cross. He permits exterior sufferings to come upon us to detach us from the world, from our conveniences and pleasure, and from all affection for creatures. He visits us with interior trials, to purify our desires and inclinations, to destroy self-love and so complete our unconditional surrender to God. The greater the favors which the Lord wills to confer upon souls, the greater the love with which He prepares them for these favors.

O my Savior, give me a love of the cross that all my sufferings may tend to more intimate union with thee.

~ Taken from Jesus, the Model of Religious Life

Friday 6th week after Pentecost

Kissing the Cross

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the convent; I got laryngitis. Actually, it hit me in the parlor while meeting with one of the Mothers just after my arrival. I'd been sick before I left and thought I was over it, but no, apparently not. And oddly enough, I didn't have a sore throat, I felt fine, just had a cough which wasn't even, at least initially, that bad!

Yes, yes, break out the jokes about how it was God's way of telling me to "shut up and listen", which really was an unnecessary message as I LOVED all the silences and sought them out whenever I could. As it was, though, that was the joke of the week with the Sisters and I was in on propagating it!

I think though, that God used it to impart to me a very different message. Not the harsh "shut up" but rather, a lesson in the Cross, in surrender, and embracing suffering.

Relics

The Novitiate at the convent had in their refrectory a relic of the True Cross, which I was invited to kiss while Mother K. was giving me the tour. At the time although my laryngitis hadn't fully manifested, I knew it was there and wasn't looking good. So my initial prayer as I kissed the Cross was that Our Lord, in His Mercy, would stave off this particular illness. I knew that the Sisters would be asking me questions, that I would have questions, and of course, I was mortified by the idea that upon my arrival in the convent I was sick! This was one of my nightmares!

I later learned there was another relic of the True Cross in a little shrine near the chapel, this one in a more ornate reliquary with a lit candle near it, and I often visited both relics and kissed them during my time there.

Yet it was on that first day and the following that, because of my unexpected and seeminly illogical illness, coupled with the grace of being able to kiss the Cross that made me meditate on that action, Our Lord's suffering...and what it meant.

A Kiss

What is a kiss but a sign of sincere love? It is intimate, it is intentional, it is physical, a motion that begins interiorly and is expressed exteriorly.

In kissing the relic of the True Cross, upon which Jesus hung in His act of Redemption, my kiss was intended to be an act of true love and devotion for Him, and in that, a recognition of His own love for me. I did not intend to be a Judas, offering a kiss in exchange for the blood money already held.

Later, in the chapel while I had some time to really meditate, I first spent some time praying that I wouldn't lose my voice, that God would remove this particular cross so that my week of discernment would be done in health and not this very inconvenient illness. And of course, my prayer was interrupted with a coughing jag. And even then I lamented my condition and begged even harder to be delivered from my suffering.

That's when it hit me; I had just kissed the Cross.

In contrition for my presumption, I gazed upon the crucifix that adorned the altar and took in our Savior twisted and contorted in torment, realizing that this is what He calls me to do as well. It is impossible to be united with Jesus without also being subject to suffering.

To kiss the Cross means that we love the Cross and we love Our Lord who died for us. To kiss the Cross is to love suffering. It is to love humility and mortification. The greatest act of love is imitation, therefore if we truly love Jesus, we must be willing to imitate Him...even unto His suffering and death.

My prayer then, was both arrogant and a betrayal. I kissed the Cross and asked for comfort. I made an act of love and then denied it by refusing to be conformed to the One I profess to love. Who am I to question the will of God, who cannot be taken by surprise and who KNEW I would suffer this illness through my retreat? I knew I should see it as a gift helping me to be more united to Him, and not an irritation that separated us.

It is my own actions, my own unwillingness to surrender to God's will that separates me from Him. Not a mere illness.

In fact, it was that illness that brought me face-to-face with Him and reminded me of the value and necessity of the Cross and the real meaning of love.

Upon this realization, I bowed my head, knowing God was with me, and said to Him, "Thy will be done. Not mine. Yours." In that moment, I embraced my suffering, which, as I've written, was not limited to the physical but became a spiritual struggle that never abated for a single moment.

From then on, each time I kissed the relics of the Cross, I made an act of surrender, resolving in my love of Jesus to also love the Cross and everything that comes with it. To embrace my sufferings if not in joy, then at least in acceptance and docility.

We are not given Crosses in order to chase us away from God, but rather to conform us more perfectly to Him, for we cannot find Him unless we are willing to be subject to His Passion.

We have to ask ourselves, each time we make the Sign of the Cross...do we mean what we pray? Do we understand what we are doing and how it must change us? Are we willing to imitate Christ only if it is comfortable to do so?

When we kiss the Cross, is our action a betrayal or a true act of devotion and love for Jesus?

*

How Long Must I Wait?

Love is so hard to comprehend. I don't understand it it all.

Yes, I've written about it theologically, and I believe that God's love is personal, but for some reason, I can't internalize the depth and witdth and breadth of Our Lord's love.

Growing up, I heard over and over how God the Father loves us, how the Holy Spirit loves us, and how Jesus loves us. We sang about it in songs. Yet, the words and chintzy tunes weren't enough. They revealed...nothing. God always seemed in some sense, impersonal and aloof. Certainly I agreed that His Sacrifice on the Cross was personal, but in my mind, it was personal to us collectively and He didn't really know me. He was like a celebrity, one who might be very kind to me if he met me, but would recognize me no more than would, say, David Hasselhoff. I was just one of millions saying, "I love you Jesus!"

Even as an adult, it's hard to grasp such deep, personal, and truly passionate love. Even though I have the theology and can express Thomistically and in Augustinian language the fact that Christ's Sacrifice was personal in the most intimate sense, this truth is something that hasn't yet truly brought me to my knees.

I've experienced bona fide miracles, and all the time I witness answers to prayers, both of mine and those of my friends. Little prayers are often answered in big, obvious ways. Even so, I simply can't grasp that God's love for us is truly tangible and real.

Honestly, I can barely even write about how personal is His love. Over and over, when I've written on this topic, I tend to make it impersonal, using terms like "we" and "us". Certainly that IS true, and in using those terms I do want to help others understand that this love is for them, maybe if I was being honest I'd have to say that the personal pronouns are too difficult. I need to "diffuse" this love of God to spread it out, because it's so strong that to understand it would bowl me over.

As it stands, I have a hard time truly accepting God's love for...me.

My response to such a revelation has always been, and remains even now, "How can this be?!?"

Lately, when looking at different pictures of Jesus, what has stood out the most has been the wounds on His hands. No matter how sterile and bloodless the picture, the artist has always taken care to portray the wounds left by the nails that pierced Jesus' hands. Every time I see these pictures, I want to stop and lose myself in that image, hide within those wounds. Even as I flinch back in guilt at what I've done, I am drawn forward with a love I cannot deny or refuse.

How dare I write about this love? How can I write about loving Jesus if I struggle so hard to accept His love for me?

This evening before Mass I was musing about this and wonder if perhaps the reason for this dichotomy is actually very simple: we don't know what love really is. In our puny, imperfect human love, we set boundaries, restrictions and conditions, even disorder. Then, when we are confronted with the perfect, personal, unconditional and unrelenting love of Jesus, we realize immeditely that we must accept it on His terms

I was almost overcome in that moment of prayer, still not understanding, but coming a little closer to His Most Sacred Heart. His Heart, the source of all love, that teaches me I don't have to understand in order to accept, that He is only asking me to trust.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.

Immaculate Heart of Mary....pray for us!

Vulnerability

It is not easy to follow Christ.

There's a line in John Paul II's Stations of the Cross that always strikes me: he speaks of how it was Peter's love for Jesus that set him up for failure. When Jesus was arrested, Peter followed Him. It was in this act of following Our Lord that his faith was confronted, and he faltered. Not once, not twice, but three times. Thrice, he denied Our Lord.

We are no different. This morning I was pondering my own failures, and how I was so ready to run away from discernment, from any vocation at all.

And then I met the uncondemning gaze of Christ, and was ashamed. No one ever said discernment is easy. It's not. It's brutal. To discern one's vocation is to follow Christ into the very pits of Hell, if He so beckons. It means to come under the same scourge, to be weighed down, with Him, under the weight of the Cross. It means we must have a willingness to stretch out our own hands and offer everything we have, everything we are, everything we have ever been or will ever be. It is an act of total surrender.

That very act is what brings us to failure. Not God's failure, but ours. We have to confront ourselves. We have to fall to the ground and die so that He can raise us up to new life.

Even outside of the context of discernment, all of us, in following Christ, has to enter into His Passion and pass through it. It's the only way to become who we are called to be as children of God.

We have to become vulnerable and risk everything so that Our Lord can act in us. We have to be willing to set ourselves up for failure for it is only through those failures that we can be purified and learn humility.

If we truly desire to know Christ, and claim that we love Him, we have to be willing to follow Him everywhere, no matter how often or how hard we fall. He will never abandon us.

Will we abandon Him?
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