Passion

I've made a decision....of sorts.


Today I received a response back to my most recent letter to the Passionists in St. Louis, which I sent under obedience to my spiritual director's orders. Sister is inviting me to visit them, in spite of what I revealed as a very peppered history and a hopeless amount of debt and obstacles.  My age, apparently, is not an issue; she reads in my letters sincerity, and in fact has not told the community about me as I am, in her words, "so far in the future".  By that she means that I won't be entering by May or August or October.  Yes, I'm an "if" but I am far in the future.


I gather from what she says that they are experiencing an unusually high number of inquiries and visits this year, and this is wonderful to "hear".  Please keep the St. Louis Passionists in your most heartfelt prayers!  I don't know if I will visit, or whether if I do, their particular community is for me, but this increase for them is a sign of the workings of the Holy Spirit, the life of the Church, and may He call MANY to this charism to offer their lives in union with the Passion of Our Lord!


So...you may be wondering, what is the "decision" I have made?


I may be speaking prematurely, but the one thing I know is that in order to progress in any way, I need to make a decision.  In looking at my life and circumstances through the lens of reason, I know when I can and can't visit religious communities. The great irony in working for the Church is that it is not easy to take more than a day or so away, for quite literally, my presence is required in nearly everything we do. There are times where it can be filled with volunteers or taken over briefly by a co-worker (at least in this parish),. but the reality is that I am not free to enter into discernment during the academic year. Of course, my own graduate studies has had something to do with this over the last three years, too.  Next school year will be a little different, but what is not being given to my own education is, really, going to translate into even MORE work and activities and crazy hours at the parish. That is the nature of working for the Church:  you give EVERYTHING whether you have it or not. 


That is the nature of God, deep calling into deep.


So, now, again,  I am facing another summer, a great gift of TIME, but also again, without the benefit of income.


Last year, about "now" when I met with my spiritual director and expressed my panic of oncoming financial disaster, he told me, "God is asking you to trust Him."  


He was right then, and I think, even more so now.  This year, though, the situation even more precarious:  It's not just the mortgage and credit for car repairs/maintenance & other random necessities I'm trying to pay, but now, both my undergrad loans (which have been subsidized in deferment while in school), and my UNsubsidized graduate loans, are all coming due. In fact, my grad loans have been due for the last few years, but have been in deferment in their unsubsidized state. Ergo: I owe more than my education actually costs.  


All I can see in front of me is disaster. And, having been in the job market even when it was good, even back when I was making decent money, well, I've NEVER had a job that will pay what I owe right now on a monthly basis.


And I have NEVER intended to be in a position to not pay my bills. I have always intended to pay them and have always worked hard to make sure I'm holding up my end. Thus far, I have excellent credit and I even keep an interior rolodex of money owed to people who helped me along the way, whether intended or not. I want to pay even that undocumented debt...and I WILL. Come hell and high water both at the same time, I was raised right, and I. Will. Pay. My. Debts. ESPECIALLY the personal ones.


Period. 


It doesn't make any logical sense, therefore, to state right now that I am giving this summer, again, to God.  


But I declare it so; this summer belongs to God. My Vocation is more important than anything else, because my salvation is dependent upon my Fiat to God in every circumstance. It is not that I effect my eternity, but a matter of operatio sequitor essse:  grace builds upon nature. 


A year ago I noted that we all work so hard for money, when really, all we really desire, all we really need, is actual TIME.  How many professionals have TIME to spend? Vacations are limited, overtime is premium pay, and in America, we tend to be obsessed with our jobs and what we put into them. 


I don't care anymore about Corporate America. I care to pay what I owe, but more than anything, I want to give to God what I owe HIM, and that is...time.  It is nearly impossible to find TIME for anything, but here it is, in my lap. I don't want to waste it. Live is not about making money, but about who we are in relation to God.


The other night, I was reminded that my life is not my own; I am called to lay it down, as are we all. 


Life to the Author of Life


Saturday evening, the vigil of  Mother's Day, after Mass I purchased three roses. One for one of my volunteers (who left before I could give it to her), one for my Mother whom I am not going to see for several weeks, and one to give the Blessed Mother.


I was almost in tears when I realized I'd purchased the rose too late for my volunteer, who has been so helpful to me this year, and really, ever since I began in my position.  Such a small token of respect, and I couldn't even give it to her! I considered leaving it for her, but realized by morning it would be wilted. I considered asking the people selling the roses (parishioners) to perhaps give it to her the next day, but realized in their busy-ness, it might be forgotten.


I wanted to give a rose to my mother, but as I wouldn't see her as usual for Mother's Day, I suddenly understood I had an option, one Mom would appreciate, one I would as well. After all....she raised me!


When I left work with the three roses, I drove to my home parish and went to the statues of the Immaculate Heart of Mary and Sacred Heart of Jesus. They aren't in the Adoration chapel, but in the main sanctuary of my parish, and I KNEW this was where I should make my offering. I laid the roses at the feet of the Immaculate Heart:  one in the name of my volunteer, one in my Mother's name, one...from me. Each was a different color, each, a different purpose. 


Two of those roses were in thanksgiving for lives lived according to God's plan.  One was in hope of a life yet to be fulfilled, but thanksgiving for the chance.


As I looked at those roses, I thought to myself, "I have just given God something HE created. How lame."


Then I understood a deeper lesson.  A lesson that brought home again the fact that we are not our own. We do not even possess ourselves. We "do what we do not want to do" in a constant battle against our passions, and therein is our own Passion; the Passion only revealed in light of the Cross.


I knew that it was one thing to hand a rose to Our Lord through His Mother, but it was merely symbolic of what I need to do: to lay down my own life. 


Roses die and enter the dumpster.

Souls grow and are united with the eternal life of God Himself. 


When I gave my rose this year, I did it as a symbol of my intention, my lived hope to not just lay down my life, but to enter into eternal holiness.  Not just in a symbol, but in reality.


I don't care if I have to live in a van down by the river:  my heart and soul belong to Jesus, and if that is true, so does my debt. Whatever happens....so be it.Jesus, I trust in thee. No matter what comes..I trust in Thee. Even if I have to live in a van down by the river.

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.

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

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!

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!

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?

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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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Keeping Watch

Our Lord asks, "Can't you keep watch with me for even one hour?"

A couple years ago, in reading Salvifici doloros and Dives in miseriacordia in my John Paul II class, I was brought to my knees in contemplation of the fact that the mercy of God elicits mercy in ourselves. We cannot behold the suffering visage of Christ without ignoring the fact that His condition elicits mercy. 

We cannot offer mercy without becoming entangled within the suffering itself.  

I've written of this a few times, with no comment, for apparently the image that means the most to me leaves others indifferent, and there's nothing wrong with that.  But know that this is an image that I am going to come back to again and again, because theologically, it's important for us all to understand, and it is a point of conversion.  I didn't invent it;  I'm only experiencing the truth of it, and understanding it because of the writings of our dear Pope John Paul II.  

The Passion of Our Lord

When I ponder offering mercy to Our Lord in His Passion, I envision reaching out to the crown of thorns, seeing how they dig and tear into the tender flesh of His head, how heavily the wounds bleed, how hard the enormous thorns pull at His hair which further pulls them into His scalp.  His torturers had POUNDED those thorns beyond His flesh and into his skull.

What terrible agony, what piercing pain, and how the blood must have covered Him, blinding him as it cascaded into His eyes!  

Yet, in that awful suffering, He spoke not a word of rebuke. It was all suffered in perfect silence. 

In the Garden of Gethsemane, in His worst Agony, Jesus knew what was to come, and sweated blood, an actual biological condition.  He felt every blow. He was primed for every scourge. He knew every inch of suffering that awaited, and then befell him.  He knew the sort of suffering and death that was His to bear, for He had first sentenced us to it and then underwent this punishment Himself for we could not have withstood it.  

His moment of abandonment on the Cross, when He surrendered to all, and willfully gave up His spirit...this is the moment to which we all seek to ascend.  Not in morbidity, but in triumph. Not at our own hands, but at the hands of God who knows the proper moment, who calls us to abandonment. 

Knowing this, seeing this, how can we NOT seek to offer mercy?  How can we NOT desire to follow Him to the culmination of His Passion?  

Yet, if we seek to relieve Him, what happens?  In the Garden, if we reach out, does not the blood that He sweats also cover us?  If we seek to offer mercy when He is scourged, how can we unless we stand between the executioners and Our Lord, and allow ourselves to be beaten as well?  Can we offer Him mercy in that moment without taking on that same scourge as that which tears His own flesh from His bones?  

If we seek to relieve Him of the pain from His crown of thorns, is it possible to remove it without being punctured by those same bloody flesh-ripping points?  

Isn't it likely, that if we reach out to Our Lord in mercy, it means we MUST allow ourselves to be entangled within His own suffering, which He undertook for us?  

If we want to offer mercy as we follow Jesus to Calvary, does it not mean that we'll fall a few times?  And just as He was not alone when He fell, if we are in His steps, doesn't it stand to reason another might be conscripted to attend to us?  Perhaps we are the ones sent, but maybe we also need assistance to continue on the way. 

Finally, if we desire to offer mercy to Christ as He is nailed to the cross, perhaps we are not all called to suffer such a death, but are we not called to be PRESENT?  To remain with Him, identified with Him, villified with Him, spat upon with Him, and completely dismissed...with HIM?  

When Jesus asked His disciples to keep watch with Him, He was asking for mercy, but only a little.  In his humility, He did not ask for more, for He knew that real love REQUIRES far more than simply keeping watch.  

Yet, keeping watch is a step, and one that means a great deal. We see in scripture the consolation of the angel in His agony, and some Saints have suggested that the angel represents those souls who desire to be present with Christ, offering Him strength for what He is to do.  Simple human presence, empathy, sympathy.  Caring. 

I got a new perspective on this recently. 

For so long now, I've been so lost in wandering.  Seeing a star but not knowing how to get there to bask in the light.  Last weekend I felt totally abandoned, so lost I thought I could not find my way out.  I was headed to join Judas in the field of blood.  

Upon sharing my defeat with my spiritual director, suddenly I realized the value of having someone else present in the midst of a trial. I realized the other side of suffering alone, and then having someone there who is willing to take on some of that suffering.  To know that each and every scourge to come belongs to me alone, but someone else would be there who knows what it is about and won't leave me to bear it alone. 

Someone who can help me be Peter and not Judas, Mary and not Martha.  

Jeus asks us to keep watch with Him; He asks for our presence, He asks us in the utmost simplicity the easiest thing we have to offer:   ourselves, our presence.  

And if we offer that, He draws us to Him, inviting our mercy. It is that very mercy that draws us further into the depths of Salvation. 

Are any of us keeping watch with Christ tonight, or are we fleeing to the field of blood to be lost forever?

Jesus asks us to keep watch with Him.  He knows, and we know, that ultimately, this is not what He asks.  Keeping watch is the first step, and if we truly love Him, we won't just keep watch, but enter into the full experience of His Passion and death, ultimately reaching for the Resurrection. 

I am so grateful to finally understand the gift of not being alone in the Garden; I'll never read the Passion accounts in the same way again.  I'll never ponder the Agony in the Garden in the same way again, for I think I have finally experienced the simple consolation asked by Our Lord to His Apostles. 

Thank you, Jesus. Give me the grace to follow You through the Cross into the Resurrection. 

The Lord is Risen, Alleluia!

Ant. 1 The splendor of Christ risen from the dead has shone on the people redeemed by his blood, alleluia.




Last night I attended the Easter Vigil with friends, and while waiting for them to pick me up, I stood outside in my driveway, enjoying the beautiful day.

I couldn't help but observe the activities of my neighbors, and those driving by with cars blaring and rattling with bass speakers probably bigger than the car itself. I couldn't help but notice all the activity going on...not ordered towards God.

I was struck by the fact so many families and individuals had entered into the Triduum, suffering liturgical death in union with the suffering and death of Christ, and were now preparing to welcome the Resurrection.

And yet, most of the world, it seems, is just going along as though nothing amazing was happening or has happened. It seems, in general, that most people never think about Jesus, or what He did. Most people, it seems, rarely utter a prayer, and if they use the most holy name of God, it is to shout it out in vain when something doesn't go their way.

So many families are quietly and simply living their faith, taking it as a matter of course that we will observe and celebrate these Holy Days with all our hearts. We may do our best to share this wondrous news with others, but it is becoming harder and harder in a world that wants to muzzle us so that we cannot share our joy in the Resurrection.

It made me think of what was happening in the world at the time of Christ. How He was arrested under cover of darkness, as though He had not taught in the Temple in broad daylight. How He was scourged like any other condemned criminal, and then paraded through the streets, carrying His cross. How He was taken outside the city walls and crucified, in the place of the skull, where criminals were decapitated.

And who, in the Roman world or beyond knew what was happening? Who knew what prophecies were being fulfilled? Who understood that the blood in their square and on their street was the blood of salvation, if they would choose to accept it?

Who saw our suffering Lord on the Cross and rushed into the shadow of His wings?

Only a few. Everyone else was either outright hostile or completely indifferent.

And yet...that reality of Christ's suffering, death, and resurrection changed everything. Everything.

It saddens me that so many will completely ignore this day, but the same hope in the Resurrection is the hope we should all grasp. Just as Mary Magdalene wanted to cling to Christ, so should we, and understand the hope He brings.

We have to remember that no matter how hard the world tries to silence the message, we cannot be silent in our love for Christ, and dedication to the Truth. He shed His blood for us...who are we to refuse to do the same?

Ant. 2 Our Redeemer has risen from the tomb; let us sing a hymn of praise to the Lord our God, alleluia.

Ant. 3 Alleluia, the Lord is risen as he promised, alleluia!

Acts 10:40-43

God raised up Jesus on the third day and granted that he be seen, not by all, but only by such witnesses as had been chosen beforehand by God - by us who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. He commissioned us to preach to the people and to bear witness that he is the one set apart by God as judge of the living and the dead. To him all the prophets testify, saying that everyone who believes in him has forgiveness of sins through his name.

Prayer, Love, and the Cross

Have you ever noticed how those three terms are so inextricably linked that to remove one is akin to the destruction of the soul?

Prayer

In the Liturgy of the Hours, there is a letter from St. Augustine about prayer. He speaks of the need for prayer, even though our Lord and God already knows our needs, and simply wants us to "exercise our desires through our prayers, so that we may be able to receive what he is preparing to give us." He admonishes us to remember the words of St. Paul to "Pray without ceasing".

Prayer is a conversation with God, a dialogue, if you will, involving alternate periods of activity and silence. Or perhaps it consists of simple wordless companionship; for even those who cannot speak become friends in the depths of comfortable silence. Prayer is this, and more; it is a language that cannot be written, but is fueled by Love.

But what is Love?

Today we also celebrate the Feast of St. Paul of the Cross who gives us a definition that gives us true perspective:

"Love is a unifying virtue which takes upon itself the torments of its beloved lord. It is a fire reaching through to the inmost soul. It transform the lover into the one loved. More deeply, love intermigles grief..."

Is that not profound? He is clear; we cannot separate Love from the Cross. I know people who flee the image of Our Suffering Lord, and they flee suffering in their own lives, for it is as if they fear to face the cost of the love that frees them.

I can't say that I'm any different from any of them.

We all fear suffering; just yesterday, I was wondering if what I truly fear is love? Or could it be that I know that to give myself over to Love means that I will enter into the depths of suffering? Why is it that we cannot see that by embracing suffering we really are entring into the depths of Love?

The Cross

St. Paul of the Cross reveals to seeking souls the beauty in that suffering, the love waiting to embrace us. And I can't deny that when I look upon the Cross, I don't see something to flee; I see someone that draws me to Mercy, not just as a virtue but Mercy personified. I find myself wanting to catch every drop of that Precious Blood, to bind those terrible wounds, to weep upon the feet of the Savior who is raised up before me and draws me to Him. I know that I have been drenched in His Blood out of my own vile, willful actions, and all of that He gave me freely, without anger, without hesitation.

Because He found me worthy of redemption. He thought I was worth it. Even though it was my sins that placed him on the Cross, He called me out of eternity so that I could be forever in His Divine Embrace.

This recognition of Profound Love is life-changing: I want to reach out to Him and remove those awful thorns from his head, one by one if necessary, and even as I imagine such an act, I see, paradoxically, that were it not for those thorns I would not be in a position to desire mercy from Mercy Himself, nor would I have the opportunity to be pierced by those very same thorns and united to Him through our intermingled blood. It is His Mercy that draws us to Him, and through Love, prompts not just repentance, but mercy towards Our Lord! We cannot help but seek to console Him in His Passion, and in so doing, we cannot help but be drawn into the depths of His suffering.

It is only there that we can truly know Christ; and it is only through Him that we can truly know ourselves. And it is the gentle dialogue of prayer that binds us in a loving friendship that far exceeds any suffering that can ever fall upon our shoulders. Prayer is the first step; prayer leads us to Love, the Cross reveals that Love, and it is prayer that enables us to express through a myriad of ways, the Love we offer in return.

I'm not a theologian, so I can't advance this idea without some sort of fear, but it seems to me that Love, Prayer, and the Cross are both actions of and reflections of the Trinity. Or are they simply echoes of the Trinity that goes outward and then draws us back, in a current we cannot resist if we recognize where our Shores truly lie?

Recently I wrote a post about the images that have corrupted me, and I both entered into and willingly pursued that corruption. I lamented the images that I can't unsee, for they have changed me forever.

But there is something even MORE compelling than those vile, satanic memories that have been tattooed into my moral fibres; and that is the visage of the Suffering Servant, nailed to the Cross, bleeding out of His personal sacrifice. I can't know Jesus and what He did without His Blood being personal. Now that I can look upon the bloodiest of crucifixes and see the depths of Divine Love, I can't unsee what I've seen...and it has changed me forever.

I am still corrupted, and I give myself willingly to the corruption of sin, for I cannot seem to break those bonds and flee their very shadow. Yet I know that even as I bear the Blood of Our Savior upon my very hands, there is Hope, for my Love has been Crucified in my place, and THAT is a Love that breaks chains if I could only speak out to condemn them.

But Christ compels me not only to praise His very name, but to enter into deepest dialogue with Him, to return the Love that He has so willingly given me, and ultimately, to embrace the Cross of suffering so that I will know Him and Love Him for eternity.



Would that I could even come close to living up to my own words.

The Scandalous Cross

I heard a speaker recently address the reality of the Cross, and the reality of Christ's love for us, individually, through His sacrifice. It wasn't new information for me (I've written of it here a few times), but it's always wonderful to hear it again, to take it in, and stare at the visual of Christ Crucified.

As the speaker pointed out, Jesus did not die for "humanity". "Humanity" is a concept; Our Lord did not sweat blood in the Garden of Gethsemane for some insubstantial concept; He suffered His Passion for each one of us, individually. When we look upon His sorrowful visage, His death upon the Cross, we should take time to consider that Jesus did this for each one of us as though we were the only one. ALL of that was for...us. Personally. Individually.

And that, he emphasized, is love. That is live-changing love. It's the love the Saints recognized, and through it, knew that they could hold nothing back in responding to such love.

Then he read the reproaches of Good Friday:

My people, What have I done to you? How have I offended you? Answer me!
I led you out of Egypt; but you led your Savior to the Cross.
For forty years I led you safely through the desert,
I fed you with manna from heaven,
and brought you to the land of plenty; But you led your Savior to the Cross.
O, My people! What have I done to you that you should testify against me?

My Musings:

I left tonight, refreshed, loving Our Lord even more, reminded of His Sacrifice and our need. I left...convicted, but joyful in that conviction.

Yet, I continually run into people who say they are Catholic, but have no time to pray before the Blessed Sacrament. They consider Mass to be "all about community" and if one happens to mention the sacrifice of Christ, and that He offered the First Mass as He hung, nailed to the wood and dying...they back away. They change the subject. They emphasize a warm and fuzzy communal meal devoid of any cost. They want to hold hands and sing "All Are Welcome".

Yes...all ARE welcome to climb upon the wood just as Jesus asked us to do...and unite our sufferings with His. He doesn't deny us....WE deny HIM.

We can't be good Catholics, and we certainly can't be Saints unless we recognize the sacrificial love of Christ. It is what defines us and what has inspired, for centuries, the deaths of countless martyrs. People don't die so brutally for some insubstantial idea of a "communal meal". They die for Truth, and for a Sacrifice that gave them Truth.

The Church certainly IS a community, however, it would not exist but for the suffering, death, and resurrection of Our Lord. We cannot come to "the table" without recognizing that we are truly receiving the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Jesus Christ HIMSELF, and to ignore His sacrifice is to deny Him completely. Such denial is even worse than the kiss of Judas or the searing flesh-ripping whips that laid bare Jesus' bones.

The Cross is so scandalous that many living among us are still denying it, even as they wear it as jewelry or hang it on their wall. They prefer to think of Jesus as "a really nice guy" who "loves everyone" and just wants to make sure everyone has enough bread to eat.

It's no wonder that there aren't more Vocations, that people just dump their kids at the door for weekly religious education classes, or take them to Catholic school but don't live their faith. It's no wonder that the Confession lines are short and the Communion lines are long.

No one is looking upon the Cross and seeing the love of God. If they refuse to see the suffering servant, they can't possibly be inspired to return, out of their own love, such a great gift back to God.

The countries where Christians are being persecuted to such a degree that it's costing them their blood....THEY understand the Cross. THEY are inspired to give their lives for the Faith, either through Vocations or literally shedding their blood. We, here in America, we don't suffer enough. We don't know what suffering is; it's far to scandalous to actually address.

We have to accept the Cross, and we have to LIVE it. We have to be able to look at the agonizing expression of Christ, and allow Him to truly share His love with us...and be changed forever.

It's only by entering into that folly that we will ever be able to understand the Glory of God.
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Bloody Crucifix

Cathy has a great series of interesting posts on the Cross, and as a result I find that I must offer some thoughts on this subject as well.

Lent is the perfect time to regard the Cross, with or without a corpus, whether we are following the Carmelite tradition of placing ourselves upon that cross to unite ourselves with the suffering of Christ, or whether we need to be faced with His extreme suffering on our behalf. (Please note: I mentioned the Carmelite tradition as they follow a very austere life and thus their cross is not representative of the Resurrection, but rather is its own spirituality of suffering taken on by each soul. Thus their "corpus" is still present.) As Cathy points out in her posts, for the rest of us, we as Catholics need to see the corpus of Christ on the cross, for there is no Easter Sunday without a Good Friday. I would like to take this theme a little further, however.

When I lived in Mexico, although I never attended Mass there (which I will forever regret as long as I live), I went to a lot of churches. And in many of them one can find Jesus laid out as though in a tomb, but covered by glass. There were prie-dieus (kneelers) so that the faithful could kneel and meditate upon their Savior, focusing on His terrible wounds. He was bloody, he was bruised, and He was a horror to behold.

I was fascinated, of course, although not at the spiritual level that this was meant to prompt. Thankfully, though, part of our education there, through a Catholic college, involved understanding these images and models of Christ. Why do they exist in Mexico and not the United States?

Our professor explained that it went back to colonial times, when the missionaries were trying to convert the Aztecs and other native communities. The wise missionaries realized that simple catechesis was not sufficient; they had to find a point of identification with the people. The native peoples of Mexico had no problem with the idea of the Virgin Birth, or the Resurrection; in fact, these ideas existed in their own pantheon of deities. Thus, they were points of identification. But there was something else the people understood, and had always understood; bloody sacrificial death. Chosen sacrifices. Fasting.

I'm not sure how it happened, but I believe the missionary (or missionaries)with the proper intelligence commissioned an artist to create Jesus in as bloody and realistic a fashion as possible, and lay Him out in his mask of death. They did this also with the crucifix.

And of course, centuries later, there I happened along to witness this image, and it has never left me. I can't "unsee" Jesus in that condition. It struck me to the core, although I didn't really understand it at the time. And while some of my classmates shied away, I was drawn in, seeing something that maybe I hadn't before, although I couldn't have told you what it was.

To this day, I LOVE the bloody crucifix, and the more I learn about theology, the more I love it, and the more meaningful is every element.

The Suffering of Jesus Christ

Several years ago, I was suddenly hit with carpal tunnel in both hands. It appeared one night while I was sick with a viral thing, so at first the pain running up my arms and the numbness in my hands was misdiagnosed as related to the virus. Then the next night was quite sleepless as first my hands went numb, and then a piercing pain ran up my arms, through my elbows, and up to my shoulders. It was horrible. The only thing that stopped me from going to the ER at 3 am was the fact that I could find a pulse in both wrists...so I knew it was the nerve. But it was like fire in my arms.

I don't remember when I learned it, but a couple years ago someone on the radio was giving a description of the suffering of Christ from the nails in his hands, or wrists. The speaker described the horrible, torturous pain of the weight of Jesus' body rubbing on the sensitive nerves in his arms, and the exquisite sensations it sent up his arms and throughout his entire body.

I know similar pain. The very thought makes me tear up, because I know the pain I experienced with the onset of carpal tunnel syndrome can't COMPARE to the suffering of Christ...from the nails in his hands alone. When I consider this horrible sensation, and take time to meditate on it, I cringe, I cry, I flinch, knowing, to some degree, what it was. And it was such a small pain in comparison to the rest of His wounds. So I have to admit, I don't think about it a lot, because it's very difficult, and at times, I can actually FEEL that pain again.

So it seems I NEED that bloody crucifix to make me understand the pain I have caused Christ through my sin.

But it doesn't stop there, for recently, I became aware of some of the symbolism of blood, from the beginning of time.

The Significance of Blood

You've read the passages in Genesis; when Cain killed Abel, God confronted Cain and cited the blood of Abel crying out to him from the ground. You've read the passages about the sacrifices offered to God on altars, in which the blood of the chosen animal was let to fall to the ground, so that the sacrifice would be offered in the proper way. You have read about the Mosaic dietary laws, the proscriptions as to how animals should be killed, for to consume the blood was abhorrent. For blood belongs to God alone; it is symbolic of life.

In Exodus, the Israelites were instructed to mark their lintels with the blood of the unblemished male lamb they were to slaughter that night; thus it was by the blood of the sacrificial lamb that they were saved.

We understand that same meaning; it is by the blood of Christ that we are saved. It is by His very blood, shed for us, that the ransom for sin has been paid. Jesus has answered to the Justice commanded by the Fall.

Thus, although some people say that they don't need to see the bloody crucifix, they don't need to see the blood Christ shed for us all, I respond that if they do not accept the blood, how can they understand Christ?

Our society has a great fear of blood, and perhaps this is part of the tactic of the evil one, for our abhorrence is not through respect as it was for the Israelites, but rather, out of irrational fear. In our world today, blood carries atrocious diseases, and those of us who may come into contact with blood or other body fluids that may contain blood are bound to protect ourselves with masks and goggles and gloves and even condoms. (I give you myself...just don't expose me to your blood.)

We are a culture of barriers. Even as we beg people to "Give Blood!", we close our eyes so as not to see the fluid passing through the tube. Even as we know that blood saves lives, for indeed, life is impossible without blood, we are squeamish and we flinch back from it. Those who are fascinated by blood are attracted to the terrible facets of symbolism found in horror flicks...this is unnatural. This latter, I would argue, is indicative of the fallen state of humanity. For even as we realize the importance of blood, we either shy away from it or we bathe ourselves in it inappropriately.

I would so argue that those who suggest we don't NEED to see the blood on the crucifix need a little more understanding as to the spiritual and real properties of blood; for it is the very blood of Christ that gives us life. And had not God breathed life into Adam, that life that coursed through him, bound to his blood, had not God become Incarnate and spilled His own blood for us in His Passion, and if we did not consume the flesh and blood of Christ at each Mass, we would have no life in us.

Blood is akin to life, and it is the gateway to Eternal Life.

I completely understand those who say they prefer a more sterile representation of Christ from the perspective of art or propriety for children. And I understand that some people are incredibly sensitive and such images are difficult for them for various reasons. However, barring such obvious scenarios, I honestly believe that mature Christians at least need an appreciation of the significance of blood, especially in relation to the Passion and Crucifixion in order to have a proper spiritual orientation to the suffering of Jesus for our salvation.

So for those who previously thought that you don't "need" to see a bloody crucifix...please reconsider, and spend some time meditating upon the importance of the blood that has set you free.

Litany of the Precious Blood of Jesus

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, hear us.
Christ, graciously hear us.
God the Father of Heaven,
have mercy on us.
God the Son, Redeemer of the world,
have mercy on us.
God, the Holy Spirit,
have mercy on us.
Holy Trinity, One God,
have mercy on us.

R. Save Us

Blood of Christ, Incarnate Word of God...
Blood of Christ, of the New and Eternal Testament...
Blood of Christ, falling upon the earth in the Agony...
Blood of Christ, shed profusely in the Scourging...
Blood of Christ, flowing forth in the Crowning with Thorns...
Blood of Christ, poured out on the Cross...
Blood of Christ, Price of our Salvation...
Blood of Christ, without which there is no salvation...
Blood of Christ, Eucharistic drink and refreshment of souls...
Blood of Christ, river of Mercy...
Blood of Christ, Victor over demons...
Blood of Christ, Courage of Martyrs...
Blood of Christ, Strength of Confessors...
Blood of Christ, bringing forth Virgins...
Blood of Christ, Help of those in peril...
Blood of Christ, Relief of the burdened...
Blood of Christ, Solace in sorrow...
Blood of Christ, Hope of the penitent...
Blood of Christ, Consolation of the dying...
Blood of Christ, Peace and Tenderness of hearts...
Blood of Christ, Pledge of Eternal Life...
Blood of Christ, freeing souls from Purgatory...
Blood of Christ, most worthy of all glory and honor...

Lamb of God, Who takes away the sins of the world,
spare us, O Lord.
Lamb of God, Who takes away the sins of the world,
graciously hear us, O Lord
Lamb of God, Who takes away the sins of the world,
have mercy on us.

Thou has redeemed us, O Lord, in Thy Blood,
And made of us a kingdom for our God.

Let Us Pray

Almighty and Eternal God, Thou hast appointed Thine Only-Begotten Son the Redeemer of the world, and willed to be appeased by His Blood. Grant, we beseech Thee, that we may worthily adore this Price of our Salvation, and through Its Power be safeguarded from the evils of this present life, so that we may rejoice in Its Fruits forever in Heaven. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.