Br. Mark Davoren OP gives a reflection on the Fifth Station of the Cross-Simon of Cyrene Carries the Cross- in a video specially pre-recorded for Godzdogz.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Stations of the Cross: Jesus Takes Up His Cross
Br. Gregory Pearson OP gives a reflection on the Second Station of the Cross - Jesus Takes up His Cross- in a video specially pre-recorded for Godzdogz.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
'My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?'
Today’s readings: Matthew 21:1-11; Isaiah 50:4-7; Psalm 22:8-9, 17-18, 19-20, 23-24; Philippians 2:6-11; Matthew 26:14—27:66 or 27:11-54
Jesus is entering Jerusalem. The divine plan is about to be realized, the prophecy of the Scriptures is about to be fulfilled: Your king comes to you, meek and riding on an ass, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden (Zechariah 9,9).
The people praise him, they cover the road with palm branches and with their cloaks, singing Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the hig (Mt 21,9-10). We know that the word Hosanna comes from Hebrew, Hoshana, and means ‘please save’ or ‘save now’. This cry for salvation is anchored in the hope of a saviour that will come to free Israel from oppression and all suffering. Being powerless in their engagement with the occupying forces, and maybe also in their engagement with parts of their own religious practice of the time, the people are longing for a powerful, liberating Messiah sent by God who will bring prosperity and peace. They find support in the Scriptures’ promise of victory, not by human power, but by divine force:
It was not their own sword that won the land, nor their own arms which made them victorious but your hand it was and your arm, and the light of your presence, for you loved them(psalm 43,3).
Human powers may not lead to victory, but the power of God will set the people free. Still, hope of victory soon turns to confusion and despair. A few days after his entry into Jerusalem, their liberator hangs nailed to a cross, crying out: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Mt 27,46). The hope of salvation literally dies in front of their eyes. What kind of divine power can this possibly be, that is so totally defeated?
The arm of God does not act in a way that we naturally may imagine. His strongest weapon, apparently manifested in weakness and helplessness, is rooted in God’s hesed - the loving-kindness of our God. The merciful God of the Old Testament finds its highest expression in the humility of the Son, Jesus Christ. The humble Servant mentioned in the prophecies (Isaiah 53) is the one who we recognize as Jesus from Nazareth. This humility consists in opening up to the will of God. It is manifested again and again in the life of Jesus: by miracles, by preaching the good news of the Gospel, by washing the disciples' feet during the last supper. But the place where we really get to see the humble heart of Jesus is in the garden of Gethsemane. Jesus prays to the Father, saying: “Let it be as you, not I, would have it” (Mt 26,39). The outcome of this fighting prayer is decisive for the passion that follows, because the suffering that is imposed upon Jesus has already been chosen by him through that secret moment in the garden where he conforms his will to the will of the Father. In obedience, the Son has humbled himself, and by this very humility, the door is open to faith, to love, to the Kingdom of God.
We watch how the King comes riding into Jerusalem. Let us look deep into his humble eyes, letting ourselves be transformed by the same humility of our Saviour, so we may follow the will of our Father in our own lives, through the salvation brought by the Lord Jesus.
Jesus is entering Jerusalem. The divine plan is about to be realized, the prophecy of the Scriptures is about to be fulfilled: Your king comes to you, meek and riding on an ass, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden (Zechariah 9,9).
The people praise him, they cover the road with palm branches and with their cloaks, singing Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the hig (Mt 21,9-10). We know that the word Hosanna comes from Hebrew, Hoshana, and means ‘please save’ or ‘save now’. This cry for salvation is anchored in the hope of a saviour that will come to free Israel from oppression and all suffering. Being powerless in their engagement with the occupying forces, and maybe also in their engagement with parts of their own religious practice of the time, the people are longing for a powerful, liberating Messiah sent by God who will bring prosperity and peace. They find support in the Scriptures’ promise of victory, not by human power, but by divine force:
It was not their own sword that won the land, nor their own arms which made them victorious but your hand it was and your arm, and the light of your presence, for you loved them(psalm 43,3).
Human powers may not lead to victory, but the power of God will set the people free. Still, hope of victory soon turns to confusion and despair. A few days after his entry into Jerusalem, their liberator hangs nailed to a cross, crying out: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Mt 27,46). The hope of salvation literally dies in front of their eyes. What kind of divine power can this possibly be, that is so totally defeated?
The arm of God does not act in a way that we naturally may imagine. His strongest weapon, apparently manifested in weakness and helplessness, is rooted in God’s hesed - the loving-kindness of our God. The merciful God of the Old Testament finds its highest expression in the humility of the Son, Jesus Christ. The humble Servant mentioned in the prophecies (Isaiah 53) is the one who we recognize as Jesus from Nazareth. This humility consists in opening up to the will of God. It is manifested again and again in the life of Jesus: by miracles, by preaching the good news of the Gospel, by washing the disciples' feet during the last supper. But the place where we really get to see the humble heart of Jesus is in the garden of Gethsemane. Jesus prays to the Father, saying: “Let it be as you, not I, would have it” (Mt 26,39). The outcome of this fighting prayer is decisive for the passion that follows, because the suffering that is imposed upon Jesus has already been chosen by him through that secret moment in the garden where he conforms his will to the will of the Father. In obedience, the Son has humbled himself, and by this very humility, the door is open to faith, to love, to the Kingdom of God.
We watch how the King comes riding into Jerusalem. Let us look deep into his humble eyes, letting ourselves be transformed by the same humility of our Saviour, so we may follow the will of our Father in our own lives, through the salvation brought by the Lord Jesus.
Friday, April 15, 2011
'It is finished' (John 19:30)
The last words spoken by the dying Christ in St. John's Gospel are simply: tetelestai, or in Latin, consummatum est. 'It is finished' or 'it is fulfilled'. Did Jesus mutter these words on the cross as his life slipped away in a tone of resigned defeat? Or were they regretfully sighed like one obliged to undertake a painful but necessary task? Did Jesus utter 'it is finished' in exhausted relief that he had endured to the end? Or was it instead a defiant cry of victory?
How we understand this last word, then, seems to depend on how it was said. John's passion narrative is at great pains to emphasise that Jesus was in control of the events that led to his death, that he was in control throughout his trial, torture and execution. In the Garden, 'knowing everything that was to happen to Him' (John 18: 4), Jesus steps forward to meet the cohort sent to arrest Him and takes the initiative. From this point onwards Jesus is humiliated, tortured and ultimately executed. Yet St. John is careful to emphasise that this suffering was chosen, not because suffering is good in itself, but out of obedience to the will of the Father. In other words, Jesus chose the cross with a goal in view, the cross was a means to an end.
It seems to me to be quite important that the cross came to an end, both in the sense that the suffering lasted for a finite time and in the sense that the cross had a point, it had a meaning. One of the great tragedies of our fallen world is that so much human suffering can seem pointless, meaningless, absurd. When we contemplate the cross, we see human nature tortured by its own sin, humanity nailed by sin to the tree. Yet we also hear the God who has taken on our human nature tell us from the cross: 'it is finished'. These are not words of despair but hope. If we join our sufferings to the cross of Christ, if we die with him, then we shall also live with him. The cross is not the last word. Our true end, our true human destiny, is the vision of God in heaven.
It seems to me to be quite important that the cross came to an end, both in the sense that the suffering lasted for a finite time and in the sense that the cross had a point, it had a meaning. One of the great tragedies of our fallen world is that so much human suffering can seem pointless, meaningless, absurd. When we contemplate the cross, we see human nature tortured by its own sin, humanity nailed by sin to the tree. Yet we also hear the God who has taken on our human nature tell us from the cross: 'it is finished'. These are not words of despair but hope. If we join our sufferings to the cross of Christ, if we die with him, then we shall also live with him. The cross is not the last word. Our true end, our true human destiny, is the vision of God in heaven.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Behold your son
When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing near, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home. After this Jesus, knowing that all was now finished … (Jn 19:26-28)
The final clause of this gospel passage “After this Jesus, knowing that all was now finished ...” points to the deep significance of Mary's role in Salvation History, of her active participation in our redemption. This moment on the Cross brings to completion what was begun at the Annunciation. At the Annunciation, the Holy Spirit is poured out into the Virgin Mary, and on the Cross the Holy Spirit is poured out onto all of humanity. At the Annunciation, Mary becomes the Mother of Christ; at the Crucifixion, Mary becomes the Mother of us all.
It is perhaps in the mother-child relationship that we most clearly identify with someone's humanity. When we see a person suffering, it can be tempting to see them as a something rather than a someone. Rather than let the sight trouble us, we may prefer to close our minds to their humanity. But if we remember that they are someone's son or daughter, then it is almost impossible to lack empathy. In the First World War, an officer was reported as saying that the worst thing about war wasn't seeing all the dead bodies, but hearing the wounded young men crying out for their mothers.
On the Cross, despite being brutally disfigured, Christ's perfect humanity is seen to shine through as he cries out to his mother. It is at this point we are able to totally identify with Christ, to fully share in His humanity and His divinity. Mary's motherhood brings to birth Christ's love within us, and it is through this love that we come to be our true selves. Because she is our mother in the order of grace, she is most truly our mother.
'I Thirst'
"After this, Jesus knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the scripture might be fulfilled, said, I thirst." John 19:28
This passage from the Gospel of St John records a truly poignant moment in the Passion of Our Lord. At its centre is something very human, something common to us all: thirst. All of us have experienced thirst to some degree and those who have experienced acute thirst know the distress it can bring. Real thirst can leave the body reeling and the mind confused. Whilst we can cope with hunger, indeed whilst we can live without food for some three weeks, we cannot do without water for more than a few days. The dying often experience intense thirst and it is as if the water, of which our bodies are largely constituted, is seeping away and with it the life that it symbolises.
In declaring this most human of needs, Christ, in His near final words upon the cross, spells out for us His true humanity. He declares that He has united Himself to us and shares with us in His sinless body all that is present in full human nature, the nature we are called daily to grow into and fulfil. The Roman soldier, no doubt moved by Jesus’ humble request, acquiesces and grants him some of the vinegar wine which he has. In this small act of human kindness we can see mirrored the far greater act of love which is Christ's death on the cross, a death given that our thirst may finally be quenched.
All of us thirst, but not just for water. We experience that deeper thirst at the very heart of our being for the One who gives us life and who promises life for all eternity. He never leaves our side and, even in the depths of distress, He lifts up to our lips the saving water of His blood, shed for us that we may know Him and be united to Him. “Oh God, you are my God for you I long; for you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you, like a dry weary land without water.” (Psalm 62)
This passage from the Gospel of St John records a truly poignant moment in the Passion of Our Lord. At its centre is something very human, something common to us all: thirst. All of us have experienced thirst to some degree and those who have experienced acute thirst know the distress it can bring. Real thirst can leave the body reeling and the mind confused. Whilst we can cope with hunger, indeed whilst we can live without food for some three weeks, we cannot do without water for more than a few days. The dying often experience intense thirst and it is as if the water, of which our bodies are largely constituted, is seeping away and with it the life that it symbolises.
In declaring this most human of needs, Christ, in His near final words upon the cross, spells out for us His true humanity. He declares that He has united Himself to us and shares with us in His sinless body all that is present in full human nature, the nature we are called daily to grow into and fulfil. The Roman soldier, no doubt moved by Jesus’ humble request, acquiesces and grants him some of the vinegar wine which he has. In this small act of human kindness we can see mirrored the far greater act of love which is Christ's death on the cross, a death given that our thirst may finally be quenched.
All of us thirst, but not just for water. We experience that deeper thirst at the very heart of our being for the One who gives us life and who promises life for all eternity. He never leaves our side and, even in the depths of distress, He lifts up to our lips the saving water of His blood, shed for us that we may know Him and be united to Him. “Oh God, you are my God for you I long; for you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you, like a dry weary land without water.” (Psalm 62)
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