ECCE HOMO!

Last night was Holy Thursday, the beginning of our 3-Day Mass consisting of Holy Thursday (Maundy Thursday for some Christian religions who observe it liturgically), Good Friday - the commemoration of the Crucifixion and Death of Our Lord, Holy Saturday which recalls Jesus' descent into Hell to free the Holy Souls from Gehenna, and this culminates after darkfall with the Easter Vigil as we anticipate and celebrate the Resurrection of Christ. It ends finally with Easter Sunday, and each Mass, whether daybreak or later, includes different Biblical readings to set the tone according to historical reality.  It is the most unique Sunday and the most important...and it can't truly be experienced alone, for the Vigil and Easter Sunday are the climax of Holy Week and most especially, of the final 3 days.

It is usually my practice to remain for at least an hour at the Altar of Repose after the Holy Thursday liturgy, but last night I could not. I had to get home to prepare for the next few days, so after a brief visit to Jesus and apologies, I set for home.

Instead of my Adoration time, I watched "The Passion of the Christ", interrupted by laundry and other preparations.

Still, my time in waiting has been spent praying through the movie, bringing the historical and spiritual reality of the Sacred Triduum into my very home, into my very heart and soul, once again.

Although several things have stricken me (as they do every time), this year I have focused my prayer on the intent of Pilate and actions of Christ in response.  Specifically when Pilate brings Jesus before the crowd, after His scourging.

Who can not be moved by such a sight?

Jesus has been scourged and is brought before the people, bound, bloodied from the terrible scourging that hasn't left an inch of skin untouched, a cap (crown) of thorns driven not just into the skin, but through bone. And still he is covered in spit, his face is swollen to the degree of being misshapen, and a soiled cloak (soiled by only God knows what) has been placed over his shoulders mocking him as "King of the Jews".

Pilate, hoping for mercy, pulls Jesus to the forefront, proclaiming to the crowd, pleading, "BEHOLD the Man!" 

He weeps for Jesus, although does not show his "tears" to the people. He beholds Our Lord and sees what He has suffered, and hopes for mercy..but he does not pray, for Pilate is a pagan and does not believe in God, or the Son of God before him. But he does understand the belief of the people and pleads with them to respond with mercy to the plight of the suffering man before him.

Pilate does not understand what is about, but offers the last option: a revolutionary, a despicable murderer, the worst crime that could be committed in the taking of human life. He compares Bar-Abbas to Iesu, demanding the crowd to make a choice, an obvious one: Jesus, who hasn't fought back, who has suffered silently, or Bar-Abbas who...well...is as disgusting a person as he actually looks even without being completely beat up and bloodied.

Mark this, it is no mistake that the man whose name means "Son of the Father" was traded to freedom in order to condemn the man who is, truly, the Son of God.

And the crowd demands the blood of Jesus. Violently. 

Pilate didn't want Jesus to go to his suffering and death, but his sin was this:  allowing it. He feared so much for his own standing that he allowed an innocent man to die. Yet Jesus still freed him, for Jesus himself pointed out to Pilate that the sins of those who sent Him (Jesus) to Pilate were greater. He didn't let Pilate off the hook, but rather, pointed out the gravity of sin and the fact that actually, Pilate's sin was weakness (venial), whereas those who sent Our Lord to the Cross by accusation and advocation were guilty of a GREATER sin. Mortal sin, actually.

Look again, and look hard.

Pilate brought Jesus before the crowd, holding Him there,

BEHOLD THE MAN!

Behold Him indeed!  Behold Him, to takes away the sins of the world! Behold Jesus, who suffered this and more for YOUR sins!

Pilate SCREAMED these words, ECCE HOMO! for all to hear, for this was long before sound systems existed. He screamed with his voice, his entire being, to reach the crowd.

It wasn't screamed in gloating, but in desperate pleading. Final pleading.

"ECCE HOMO!"  He's had ENOUGH! 

But it WASN'T enough. By human terms it WAS enough, but by the screeching of the crowds, it wasn't anywhere near sufficient. They screamed all the more,

CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM!

And they didn't know it, but even by their screeching for His demise, they were saved...if they chose to accept Him later.

Jesus didn't die "for all", as some would have by the human-created doctrine of comfort,  but rather "for many", for our own cooperation is a requirement of our salvation. The God who created us without our permission does not save us without it.

ECCE HOMO! BEHOLD THE MAN!

Triduum

Before the feast of the Passover Jesus knew that his hour had come; he had always loved those who were his own, and now he would show them the depth of his love. 

~ Liturgy of the Hours, Antiphon for Daytime prayer

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I began Lent as Judas, and unfortunately, not much has changed in the last 40 days. The one less I take with me this year into the Sacred Triduum is the very acute, painful knowledge of my own abject wretchedness before God.

This evening, for the first time in many years, I didn't even want to go to the Holy Thursday liturgy, but of course I did go, because I can't imagine not doing so. It would just be...wrong. After all, what other thing could I possibly do that would be a better use of my time? What other thing do I possibly have to do at all?

Nothing.

After Mass I remained and went to the chapel to pray at the altar of repose for awhile, and was grateful to realize that, although I hadn't wanted to come, I didn't want to leave.

I'm grateful to have that sense of loss, of having to tear myself away from the Presence of My Lord, for tonight and tomorrow all the tabernacles in the world will stand empty, the light extinguished, door open. When we return tomorrow, we will be going to enter into Jesus' Passion and death, and lay Him in a tomb.

Perhaps, then, although I began Lent as Judas, I finish as Peter, for although I have fallen many times, I have continued to get up, and although I have denied Him, I have heard the cock crow and I have knelt at His feet, this very evening, and prayed never to betray Him again.

Yet...I know that I will, and that is why He went to the Cross.

Had Jesus not died for me, I would not be able to live for Him.

Thank you, Jesus.

The Violent Bear it Away

And from the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away. ~ Mt 11:12

This evening I went early to the Church to spend a final hour in Adoration. I  noticed Father come into the chapel, but initially did not pay attention as he was not vested. Suddenly I became aware that he was giving the customary benediction and others in the chapel had gone to their knees. I did as well, and watched as Our Lord was taken from the monstrance and the Blessed Sacrament reserved in the tabernacle were removed in solemn silence. The sacristan blew out the candles and left us staring into the open tomb of the empty tabernacle.

I pondered the violence of Holy Thursday, realizing how violent it was to my spirit to watch my Lord carried away at a time I did not expect. In past years there had been more time for Adoration...but not this year. Sadly, I moved into the Church to prepare for the first part of the three-day Mass that makes up the Sacred Triduum.

After Mass I returned to the chapel, to the Altar of Repose, planning to remain this year until the very end.

It is always with trepidation that I spend these last hours with Christ, going from the Last Supper and joining Him in His Agony in the Garden.  Tonight, I pondered the violence, the necessary violence, that makes up Lent and the Mystery of our Redemption. I meditated upon the necessary violence we must do to ourselves to overcome our own passions, to make our own sacrifices, in preparation to receive and understand the sacrifice of our Savior.

I meditated on the violence in this time of persecution, and the violence that begat it.

It is fitting, and it will always be fitting.

Tonight, as the Hour drew near, one could sense the tension in the chapel, as all who remained were aware of what was about to happen. Recalling the scene 2,000 years ago, I thought for a moment that I could nearly hear the sound of clashing armor, heavy footsteps, and hard voices. I could nearly see the torches that lit the way. And yet, there, in the chapel, the Garden, there was peace and silence in the presence of the Beloved. It grew to a point, though, that as much as I dreaded what was going to happen, I was ready, for I knew that if Our Lord was not taken away, our Redemption could not take place.

Even as Jesus surrendered to the chalice that His Father would not forbear to be passed from His lips, so I, too surrendered to the violence that must bear it all away.

Still, even prepared, as the Priest approached the Altar of Repose with great reverence, and removed Our Lord, even though liturgically there is no violence, yet somehow, violence was done to my soul as His Presence was taken from me. The candles were extinguished and the tabernacle stood open...empty.  I knelt were I was; I found that I could not rise. The violence of the Sacred Triduum has born me away, too, drawing me more deeply into the Mystery of our Redemption.

So it is that in stricken silence and anticipatory grief, I follow Jesus through this night of trial and persecution, through scourging and the crowning of thorns. I follow Him, because I cannot stay away. Even as I so often deny Him like Peter, I will continue to follow, for only He who is born away by the violence of the Cross is worthy to be followed, and worthy of the suffering caused even by the attempt.

As the violent bear away Christ our Savior, so, in suffering violence does He go to bear away our sin.

Tonight, they have taken Him away to be Crucified for our sins...

Holy Thursday

Lent has come to an end, and yet now we enter into the Holy Triduum, the most intense and solemn days of the year.

It has been a difficult Lent for me, and all I have learned, as usual, is that I can't save myself. I cannot overcome my weaknesses, I cannot overcome sin. There is nothing I can do to save myself; again and again I went crawling back to Jesus to confess my faults and ask for forgiveness. And each time, I was forgiven and sent back out, only to fall again.

It is in this condition that I enter the Triduum, knowing my Savior waits, knowing that without Him, I would fall and never rise again.

I am so much like Peter in that way; even as he could not seem to keep from shooting off his mouth, he also could not stay away from Jesus, following him even after His arrest. Following Him, desiring to follow Him as he'd promised, only to deny Him. Not once, not twice, but three times.

I do the same thing. I stand with Christ, and proclaim that I love Him and I will follow Him, and I am willing to DIE for Him. Jesus looks at me probably with the same expression as that which He gazed upon Peter 2,000 years ago. He sees my enthusiasm and desire to do great things for Him and with Him, the same things, hopefully, that Jesus desires. And He says, "You say that now, but before you even leave my presence you will deny me three times."

Jesus, ever patient, ever faithful, understanding our weakness more clearly than we.

It is we who are impatient and unfaithful. It is we who cannot understand. It is we who fail in love and charity.

It is Jesus who constantly forgives, accepts our apologies and reminds us that it is for THIS reason that He goes to the Cross.

Tonight, Holy Thursday, we celebrate the institution of the Eucharist and the Priesthood. Tonight, we see how Christ has begun to empty Himself in preparation for His Passion and death.

We can understand Peter, and the rest of the Apostles, because, in Lent, we have all probably recognized our weakness and sinfulness...our unworthiness. How shocked the Apostles must have been when Jesus Christ washed their feet, in this act of ordination which they did not recognize at the time. How proper that they were cleansed and instituted before the Eucharist, for even though none can be worthy, Christ chooses and calls those whom He desires to serve in His place, with His own authority.

Let us all reflect deeply on how Christ emptied Himself, ask for the ability to do the same, and enter with Him into His Passion and Death on the Cross. We can only rise again with Him if we, too are willing to suffer for others in dying to ourselves in order that Christ might live in us.

Let us also understand the great gift of the Priesthood of Jesus Christ which He has passed on through His Apostles, and the gift of His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, without which none would have life.
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Holy Thursday

Stay with me
Remain with me
Watch, and pray....


Tonight, the Blessed Sacrament has been carried to the Altar of Repose, and all the tabernacles in the world stand open and empty. We are invited to remain with Jesus, praying with Him until Midnight, offering Him consolation in His sorrow for our betrayal.

It is this very night that we commemorate the beginning of His Passion; the Hour is at hand. It is this night that Jesus' agony was so intense that his sweat was as blood, and He prayed from the depths of this terrible suffering.

"My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will."

Jesus was perfectly resigned to the will of the Father; and just as the Fall took place in a garden, so our Redemption begins in the same way. And Jesus invites us into His Passion, to stay with Him, to pray with Him, to watch, and wait...for His hour is at hand.

Triduum

Last night, Holy Thursday Mass was beautiful, reverent, and above all, as always, holy. After communion and the procession to the altar of repose, the choir filed out and around the sanctuary and sang,


"Stay with me
Remain with me
Watch, and pray..."

It was truly beautiful, and fostered a deeper prayer within me. Throughout the evening a prayer continued to rise from me, one I did not really want to pray, yet I could not help but follow the prompts of the Holy Spirit in my spontaneous request. And as I rested there, suddenly feeling a sensation like a spiritual rupture, I begged the Lord for a special grace, which He provided nearly immediately. I was completely overwhelmed.

I had been contemplating the agony of Jesus in the garden, and I could not help but feel deep, deep pity for him, wanting to extend consolation and mercy to him, wanting to reach out to him in some gesture of gratitude, of love....of consolation.

Yet how could I console my Lord, when I was the one who fashioned the thorny crown he was to wear? How could I offer mercy to the one whom I had lashed so hard with the whips? How could I offer gratitude when I had placed the nails in his hands and his feet? How could I dare to extend pity towards the on whom I had ridiculed?

And yet, still the prayer for a certain grace rose from my soul and I could not hold it back, somehow entering into his suffering in a way I had never experienced.

I cannot share the grace I requested or recieved, suffice to say that the Lord is good, the Lord is merciful, even to the least of us, even to those of us who abused Him unto death.

When I could rise from my pew last night, I went into the chapel, trying to hide my tear-stained face, but I could not stop the tears, and I could not leave His presence. I remained, but had to go; I had no choice, and that leaving ripped a wound open I did not understand.

At home, I could only kneel and gaze upon a crucifix of the suffering Jesus, sensing this terrible separation, feeling a sort of lonliness so deep it was unlike anything I'd ever felt. And yet, the word "felt" or "feeling" isn't accurate; it wasn't really an emotion or a physical sensation. Words simply do not convey the experience.

I had to work today, and counted down the minutes and hours until I could leave, apologizing that I could not be observing in prayer the hours of 12 pm to 3 pm. But tonight's service was blessed. The experience of last night did not repeat, although there was a touch of it before it started; I could not prevent my tears.

And after all, if we are contemplating the suffering of our Lord on our behalf, aren't tears appropriate? So I let them come.

And now it is over, we celebrated the death of our Lord Jesus Christ on the cross, and still, this paradox resides within my soul; it is a separation, a sort of rupture, and yet a closeness to Jesus I don't understand. I don't understand how this paradox can be, and yet it simply IS.

I have never before been so prepared for the Easter Triduum; I have never before experienced such graces at such a time.

This is when the Church goes into a period of silent mourning, and our Good Friday fast is to extend into Holy Saturday to the degree possible. In this way, we may all be better prepared, and more appreciative of the beauty and richness of the Liturgy of the Easter Vigil and the Easter Sunday Masses in celebration of the Resurrection.


Jesus, let me be crucified with you.
Jesus, let me die with you.
Jesus, remember me, when you come into your Kingdom.