Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Way Of The Cross

Oh my Jesus,

My beloved, to hear the voice condemning you, after so much pain and humiliation has already been inflicted, I cannot bear it. Oh my heart! How can I walk beside you to the end? And yet to leave you would be more than I can bear. With that terrible crown upon your head, you come toward a terrible victory. I can feel its sharpness pressing into my head as if it were my own. And I will follow you, weeping.

To see you walking in such pain, with arms bound tight to the cross you carried on your shoulders; with all the dust sticking to your legs, mingling with the drying blood that flowed down upon them. Oh my love! How I wish that I could carry it for you!

I feel you falling to the ground, arms all helpless to stop yourself as you land heavily on your chest. Oh my beloved! How I wish I could pick you up in my arms and carry you, cradle you!

Oh child! There is no pain like this! How does a mother understand the pain of her child without feeling it? How does she not feel it? How do I, who is joined to you, not embrace you as you pass by?

Oh my heart! Please, let me carry it for you, if only for a little while, but for a little while. For, through your promise, we two are one; to make it lighter for you is a delightful weight.

I see the sweat and blood flowing down your face, mingling with your tears and stinging your eyes. Do you see me, beloved, as I see you? Oh, to cradle your face in my hands, wiping you gently with a soft cloth, kissing you softly as in a dream! Oh my beloved! The image of you is burned into my soul.

I hear resounding the searing crack as you fall again, slicing your knees open on the hard ground, exhausted. If I could but kiss your broken skin, try to heal the wounds as you have healed me!

Oh my Lord! How do I cry out in agony at seeing you! Your body broken for me, your blood spilling upon the ground. It is torment to look upon you, and yet I cannot turn away. I cry for you loudly, beloved: do you hear me?

Again, you fall, your chest landing heavily, your heart beginning to break. Oh my beloved! How does it go on beating? How do you get back up?

Oh sweet Jesus! Your naked skin, vulnerable and torn, exposed to unforgiving sun and jeers as the soldiers tear your clothes. Oh my Lord! If I could but cover you with my body, hold you close in your fragility, as you have held be. How I wish to caress you gently, my hands soothing on your broken skin.

Oh my hands! How do I feel it so vividly as they pierce through your skin and bone and muscle? Oh child Jesus! The blood coating your hands and feet when you were born was brighter somehow.

I cannot breathe as you cannot breathe; struggling against torn skin to pull yourself upward, to take in air through the pain. Oh my soul, we are dying together!

How I wish that I could sing you to sleep! Your arms outstretched upon the Cross, embracing all our pain and brokenness in the agony of your suffering. You do not sleep, and I cannot soothe you. I can only look upwards in mute horror as the smell of your broken body surrounds me.

Oh my beloved! You have pierced my soul with a spear covered in precious stones, and the pain of it has given me life. Oh my beloved! You have bound me to you in a promise made secretly in the night, as I took you into my arms. Oh my love, how you have held me in my pain! How do I wish that I could hold you so soothingly, become one with you so completely. Today I can only hold you in your death, my beloved.

Your body now held in my arms, still warm and soft, as still as a calm sea. Oh my heart! How can I bear it? To hold you for much longer is more than I can bear, yet I cannot open my arms to release you. Oh how I long to hold you forever in my embrace!

Dark and cold, fragrant with spices, your body carefully wrapped in new linen cloth. You are yourself but not yourself; you are my beloved, here with my, held in my longing gaze, and yet you are already gone. Oh my Jesus! What has been done to you?

1 comment:

  1. yes, I have indeed posted this elsewhere before. But I still like it -- it stil resounds for me with truth.

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