CHAPTER XV Of the stripping, the mocking, the crowning, and the smiting of the Head, of the Lord Jesus
CHAPTER XV
Of the stripping, the mocking, the crowning, and the smiting of the Head, of the Lord Jesus
I BLESS Thee, and give thanks to Thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, illustrious King of Saints, and shining Crown of everlasting glory, for the many unheard-of outrages and affronts, to which Thou wast once more subjected by Thy impious tormentors, when Thou hadst been brought by the cruel soldiers into the Praetorium. There, the whole band being gathered together unto Thee, Thou wast shamefully stripped of Thy own garments, and instead of them, wast mockingly clothed in a scarlet cloak; that so Thou mightest clothe us, who are devoid of all goodness, with the cloak of Thy own holiness, and mightest adorn us with the sweetness of Thy Own nature.
I praise and glorify Thee, with the special devotion of a heart full of compassion, for the very great pain Thou hadst to bear for us poor worms of earth, when the Crown of Thorns was forced upon Thy sacred Head. For at that time Thy ever-blessed Head, hallowed above those of all other Nazarites, was oppressed by such a multitude of thorns, and was so grievously pierced, even down to the brain itself, that large streams of blood ran down everywhere over Thy Neck and Ears, over Thy Eyes and Cheeks, and made Thy sweet Face, which was as yet scarce dry from the spitting of the Jews, bloody and disfigured.
O sight of all sights the saddest; to see the Son of God, in Whom no spot of sin could be found, so ignominiously and so cruelly crowned!
How surpassingly cruel was the rage of the soldiers, who shrank not from piercing with so many thorn-points that Head, so noble and so worshipful; and who even dared to insult the King of Angels by saluting Him in mockery, by smiting Him, and by making Him a gazing-stock to the multitude!
O most gentle Jesus, King deserving of all love, Crown of Confessors, Stay of the Church Militant, Joy of the Church Triumphant, Model for all who would follow Thee, how outrageously art Thou treated, how cruelly art Thou tormented; outwardly what affronts are heaped on Thee; inwardly with what unspeakable distress art Thou filled—and all for my sake; that Thou mightest save me from being confounded for ever, in the torments of Hell; that Thou mightest pluck out from my heart the thorns, which my sins have left in it; and that Thou mightest crown me, in the Heavenly Mansions, with a crown of glory and of honour that fadeth not away!
I laud and magnify Thee, for the mocking salutation, and pretended respect, shown to Thee; when Thy tormentors, bowing the knee before Thee, struck Thee on the Head; when they contemptuously adored Thee, and ironically styling Thee King, acclaimed Thee in the words: “Hail, King of the Jews!”
Behold, O man who must die, O servant of sin, to what anguish and contempt the Only Begotten Son of the Father is subjected for thy sake! Set open the ears of thy soul, and pour forth loving sighs and tears, as thou hearest Pilate’s cruel words: “Behold the Man!” If thou hast any bowels of love, let all that is in thee burst forth in groans and tears of compassion for the Creator of the Universe.
I praise and bless Thee, my adorable Jesus, for the despiteful mockery which Thou didst endure, when, to add to Thy distress, a frail reed was put into Thy right Hand instead of a royal sceptre; as if to proclaim Thee an audacious pretender to kingly rank.
I laud and magnify Thee for the most cruel smitings of Thy already wounded Head, which Thou didst endure when those pitiless men and most brutal tormentors, lifting high the reed, struck Thee many blows with it on the top of Thy sacred Head; and, yet again covering Thee with loathsome spittle from their filthy mouths, thrust out their tongues at Thee.
Come forth, now, ye daughters of Jerusalem, and behold Solomon your King, wearing the crown with which His mother, the Synagogue of the Jews, crowned Him, on the day of His Passion. Behold how mighty is He Who goes out before you! See amid what outrages and insults He is, by Pilate’s order, led forth; that so the pitiable condition, to which He has been brought, might be made known to all! In very sooth, to behold all this is misery, to think thereon is painful; with such affliction faithful love cannot but suffer in unison. See, from the Judgement Hall, goes forth the most meek and patient Jesus, wearing on His Head the Crown of Thorns, and clothed in a purple robe, that so perchance the rage of the fickle mob might be ever so little changed into compassion, at seeing their victim so dishonoured and ill-treated! But alas, alas, the angry crowd rages only the more fiercely; and, as the Governor calls out: “Behold the Man,” it shrieks back its answer: “Away with Him! Away with Him! Crucify Him!”
When thou hast heard all this, O faithful lover of Jesus, and laid it to heart, tremble, and grow pale, at the thought of the extremity of His affliction. Beat thy breast, pour forth thy tears, and fall low upon thy knees, at the sight of Jesus crowned, and made believe to be a King, maltreated all the while like the most contemptible of slaves—remembering that He bore all this terrible pain and distress that He might check in thee the longing for earthly renown, and subdue in thee the fatal disease of pride.
Be ashamed, O man, slime of the earth that thou art, of seeking earthly renown, when thou beholdest the most noble Head of Thy Lord treated with such contempt. As member of a Body, the Head of which is crowned with thorns, be not for very shame, fond of pleasure: having before thee thy Lord, in all His Majesty, submitting to this hardship and disgrace, shrink thou from choosing a life of greater softness; and aim rather at a passionate longing for a severer discipline than any thou hast yet had to undergo. Stand in awe, ye proud ones, who pant to rise higher in the world, who crane your necks that your heads may seem to overtop your neighbours’, not thinking that the more ye put yourselves forward the more ye demean yourselves. Blush with shame, ye exquisites, who dare to carry yourselves proudly in the presence of Jesus scourged and crowned; take shame to yourselves ye who dress yourselves up in jewels and silk attire, ye who pile gold and silver ornaments upon your bodies, so soon to perish and decay; take shame to yourselves ye who tire your heads, and flaunt your grand apparel, and all the while are neglecting the work of your salvation, and are forgetting at the cost of what dire pains your redemption was purchased.
Be comforted, be comforted, poor Lazarus full of sores, and thou, whoever thou art, who in this world art of no account; for thou, in thy distress, and in thy low estate, art more in the likeness of Jesus of Nazareth than the rich man, as he goes his evil way, clothed in purple and fine linen.
And thou, cowled monk, take no shame to thyself for the meanness of thy habit, coarse, and covered with patches, though it be; for thou shalt have praise of God, and of His Angels, if it be thy outward apparel only which is mean and poor, and inwardly thou art adorned by a holy life! But take shame to thyself, thou monk, who oughtest to be dead to the world, and to rejoice in being poor, if thou wish for more dainty clothing.
What true and refreshing consolation is in store for a Religious needing comfort in distress, when he does not fail often to meditate out of a sad heart, upon the most painful crowning of Jesus, His Lord! As often, then, as thou findest thyself ill at ease, call to mind the many thorns with which the Head of Jesus was pierced, and thy pain will be made easier for thee to bear, whether it come from being vexed by others, or because thou hast a grievous headache, or (which is very often harder to bear) because the many-pointed stings of detraction are wounding thee. Better far, surely, is it for thee to suffer now with the suffering Jesus; and by bearing trials, of whatever kind they be, to wear thy crown of thorns with thy crowned Jesus; than hereafter, by reason of having followed thy own will and pleasure in thy life on earth, to have to suffer the pains of Hell, and to have to bear that worst of all the torments of the damned, the being cast out for ever from the presence full of joy of thy Saviour Jesus, and the being shut out for ever from the sweet company of the saints in Heaven. How joyously and fearlessly, at the dreadful Judgement Day, will that man stand before the King Eternal, who in this world does not shrink from bearing the reproach of His dishonour, and the anguish of His sufferings in the Flesh! How pleasing and how dear to God is that soul, and how fruitful is its meditation, which is inwardly bruised at the thought of the sufferings of Jesus, which is wounded to the heart by His Wounds, and at the thought of His death, expires with Him in a death of love.
I mourn over Thee, my loving Jesus, full of patience and meekness, in Thy cruel scourging, in Thy shameful mocking, in Thy painful crowning for my sake; and, that I may mourn the more deeply, I pray Thee to grant me the grace of a pity that may pierce me through and through. Humbly falling, therefore, at Thy Feet, I adore Thy glorious Majesty, subjected, in Thy Human Nature, to such insults and contempt; and, with lips vowed to Thy service, I earnestly beseech Thee to imprint plainly, and to stamp firmly, upon the tablet of my heart the image of Thy afflicted Face, as It was in that hour when Thou wast thrust forth as a leper abhorred of all men; and, crowned with thorns, wast made a gazing-stock for the raging multitude. May this most distressful vision of Thee so pass into the secret recesses of my heart; may it so powerfully afflict and pierce it, that every worldly longing may perish from my eyes; that every lust of the flesh may utterly die within me; and that, for Thy sake, everything that is humiliating and distasteful may seem to me sweet and pleasing. May the thought of Thy sufferings crush within me all my evil affections; and may the remembrance of Thy most cruel anguish make my daily worries easier for me to bear. May the holy vision of Thy crowning, borne in upon my mind, and carefully and deeply meditated upon, bring me great comfort under the assaults of the enemy, and help me firmly to resist temptation to impurity in thought. For a heart occupied with heavenly things, and truly contrite, has no room for evil imaginations, and is shielded from the flying darts of the enemy.
Strip me, too, O Lord Jesus, of the filthy rags, which are all that I have of my own. Clothe me with true righteousness, and grant me to bear contempt cheerfully; that so I may learn not to take offence if I am deprived of necessaries, nor to lose my temper if old clothes are served out to me instead of new, or rough instead of soft. Keep me from being angry with those who flout me, and from paying back in their own coin those who find fault with me. Remembering Thy Crown of thorns, may I, for my own Salvation’s sake, take calmly everything painful and distressing that comes upon me. Finally I pray that Thou wouldest pierce the hardness of my heart, and wouldest drive one of the sharpest thorns of Thy Crown right through its very centre; that so all the bad blood which is in my flesh may flow out through the wound which it makes, and the sharp goad of Thy holy love may remain fixed therein, till the thorns of my besetting sins, and the thistles of my temptations are thoroughly purged out of it, and I have become fit to be a seed-plot for virtues; and so the soil of my heart, poisoned as it is by the primeval curse, may again receive a blessing from the inpouring of Thy sacred Blood; and, in place of the thorn of envy, may bring forth the rose of charity, in place of the nettle of lust, the lily of chastity, in place of the burdock of vanity, the violet of humility, and in place of the bramble of harshness, the flower of gentleness.