Tuesday, September 16, 2003
The more I meditate on Jesus' sacrifice, the more I see
two things: it really, really, really hurt. From the
time he retreated into the garden and suffered, to the
time Jesus breathed his last, it was a nightmare of
grief, isolation, physical torture, blood loss,
exhaustion, thirst, pain.
And yet, the evidence we have is that Jesus did not go
to the cross complaining, nor did our Blessed Mother
chase after the soldiers to curse them, but that EVEN
THOUGH the pain was real, the grief was real, the
horror was real, the nightmare was real, Jesus and Mary
submitted to the Father, no matter what the personal
cost.
Catholics especially believe in redemptive suffering, that we can link our sufferings to that of Christ, basing this on teachings of St. Paul. We believe it is good to offer up everything, our joys and our sufferings, our happiness and our misery to the good God. And so, I do try to do it, with graciousness and being serene that all is of God. But in reality, I am so far from following the examples Jesus and Mary give us. It's not so much that I set out to complain or whine about my lot, but the effort to bear my cross when things are rough sort of sneaks around the cracks, so to say, and I get sharp tongued and short tempered.
And yet, I find my refuge is with Mary at the foot of
the cross. with our Lady as the Mother of Tears, the Lady of Sorrow. In my mind, as I meditate on it, as horrible as every thing was, during Jesus' passion, she was the strong one for those around her, comforting those who came to stand with her. Why? Because she knew this was of God, and as absolutely horribly painful and awful it was to suffer through, God asked it of her and she gave.
My goal then is to be like Mother Mary, not to point
the finger and complain and whine but to accept that
these are also of God, as much as the joy and
consolations are, and take my place with her at the
foot of the cross. She didn't focus on how she was
being wronged, or cry out in fear for the future, or
question God, but concentrated on her Son's needs, and
gave all and what she could.
Even though it is hard, and I stumble, and find at
times even that it is HARD to stay focused on Jesus,
even when I hurt,and my heart isn't in it, even if I
wander away for awhile and let the world catch me up
for a little while, I know I need to be there at the
foot of the cross, for that place of death is the true
fountain of life; through Christ's stripes I am healed.
two things: it really, really, really hurt. From the
time he retreated into the garden and suffered, to the
time Jesus breathed his last, it was a nightmare of
grief, isolation, physical torture, blood loss,
exhaustion, thirst, pain.
And yet, the evidence we have is that Jesus did not go
to the cross complaining, nor did our Blessed Mother
chase after the soldiers to curse them, but that EVEN
THOUGH the pain was real, the grief was real, the
horror was real, the nightmare was real, Jesus and Mary
submitted to the Father, no matter what the personal
cost.
Catholics especially believe in redemptive suffering, that we can link our sufferings to that of Christ, basing this on teachings of St. Paul. We believe it is good to offer up everything, our joys and our sufferings, our happiness and our misery to the good God. And so, I do try to do it, with graciousness and being serene that all is of God. But in reality, I am so far from following the examples Jesus and Mary give us. It's not so much that I set out to complain or whine about my lot, but the effort to bear my cross when things are rough sort of sneaks around the cracks, so to say, and I get sharp tongued and short tempered.
And yet, I find my refuge is with Mary at the foot of
the cross. with our Lady as the Mother of Tears, the Lady of Sorrow. In my mind, as I meditate on it, as horrible as every thing was, during Jesus' passion, she was the strong one for those around her, comforting those who came to stand with her. Why? Because she knew this was of God, and as absolutely horribly painful and awful it was to suffer through, God asked it of her and she gave.
My goal then is to be like Mother Mary, not to point
the finger and complain and whine but to accept that
these are also of God, as much as the joy and
consolations are, and take my place with her at the
foot of the cross. She didn't focus on how she was
being wronged, or cry out in fear for the future, or
question God, but concentrated on her Son's needs, and
gave all and what she could.
Even though it is hard, and I stumble, and find at
times even that it is HARD to stay focused on Jesus,
even when I hurt,and my heart isn't in it, even if I
wander away for awhile and let the world catch me up
for a little while, I know I need to be there at the
foot of the cross, for that place of death is the true
fountain of life; through Christ's stripes I am healed.
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