CHAPTER XXXI Of the wan and piteous appearance of Jesus, when on His Soul leaving His Body, evident signs of death showe
CHAPTER XXXI
Of the wan and piteous appearance of Jesus, when on His Soul leaving His Body, evident signs of death showed themselves in Him
I BLESS Thee, and give thanks to Thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, spotless Mirror of the Majesty of God, for the wan and piteous appearance, due to death’s onset, which Thou didst present, when after Thy Soul had left Thy Body, evident signs of mortality showed themselves in Thee.
Alas, alas, my Jesus, fairest of men, the comeliness of Thy pleasant countenance has been marred by the filthy spitting upon Thee of men of unclean lips, and in Thy contest with death Thou hast lost the bloom of Thy beauteous manhood! Alas, my most loving God, all these things have befallen Thee because my sins had to be washed away: it was in order that my soul might be made white, that Thou didst submit Thy Body to be made unsightly; it was to save me from death eternal, that Thou didst taste for a while the most cruel of deaths. O Death, what hast thou done? How is it that thou wast not afraid to lay thy hand upon the Lord’s Anointed? What power hadst thou over Him; what crime couldst thou lay to the charge of the Son of God? Thou hast fallen upon Him, and slain Him; but thy victory has cost thee dear: for in slaying Him thou hast slain thyself; impaled upon the stake of Christ’s Divinity, thou hast brought to an end thy cruel reign; and on the descent into Hell of the Soul of Christ thou hast been compelled to set free all the Saints, dead because of Adam’s sin, who had so long been held captive by the prince of Darkness. As indeed the Prophet had long since foretold: “O death, I will be thy death; O hell, I will be thy sting.” And so in Church is raised the triumphant song: “Life dies upon the Tree: the grave has lost its sting.”
By Thy death, therefore, O Christ, the hope of life is mine once more, and by Thy victory over the prince of death a crown of joy is given me. Abundant indeed, and manifold, was the grace which flowed forth from Thee, when Thou didst die upon the Cross in order that we might live; for original sin is done away, actual sin is forgiven, pardon is extended to all, the sentence is modified, vengeance is stayed, every debt is wiped out; to no contrite soul is mercy denied; for of Thy Passion the merit is inexhaustible.
It was not for nothing that Thou didst submit to die. For what then didst Thou die? It was not an angel that needed Thy death; for the angels have never lost their first estate. The devil can never be reinstated, for his fall only hardened him. It was for man, then, that Thou didst die; and it was because death came upon him by reason of his being caught in the snares of the devil. Fitting indeed it was that Thy Charity should raise up him whom another’s malice had caused to fall: but how great is the love, how immeasurable is the depth, of the counsels of God! Oh the wonder of the never-to-be-forgotten mystery—man earning salvation through the merits of the Cross, winning a kingdom through its offence; entering into glory through an exacted penalty; brought through death into life everlasting! Thy Passion, therefore, O Lord, is of all things the most sacred; it is for all wounds a sovereign remedy; Thy Cross is the downfall of all who are against us; it is the safeguard of all who trust in Thee; Thy death is the penalty by which all our faults are expiated, it is the foundation of all our virtues. I will rejoice, then, in Thy merits and in the fruits of Thy Passion, and I will ever take comfort from the thought that Thou hast redeemed me; but my love for Thee must ever make me grieve over Thy cruel death. It is love that makes me rejoice with Thee in Thy victory over death; and it is love that makes me bewail Thy having had to bear such a heavy load of anguish for my sake.
Come then, O faithful soul, and look upon the pale and careworn features of thy crucified Saviour; mark each several limb of Jesus Who is dead, and let the greatness of thy compassion make thine eyes run down with tears. Thy time is well spent, very sacred are thy thoughts, when thou art occupied in contemplating Jesus hanging on the Cross. As a cluster of cypress in the vineyards of Engaddi, so is the thought of the Crucified in the heart of a good man. If, then, thine eye is pitiful, if thou hast in thee aught of the milk of human kindness, lift up the eyes of thy mind to meditate upon God, crucified for thee, hanging dead upon the Cross. There before thee is the Tree of the Cross, upon which hangs thy Salvation; of the devout the Redemption, of unbelievers the laughing-stock. His lifeless, thorn-crowned Head is bowed low upon His sacred Breast. The Eyes of Him from Whose all-seeing Eye no secret can be hid, are sightless now. The Ears of Him Who foreknows all things, hear nothing now. He Who gives to flowers the sweetness of their scent, smells nothing now. The sense of taste has gone from Him Who gives to all things that have life their life and food. He Who makes the dumb to speak opens His Lips no more. He Who teaches men knowledge is silent now. That Tongue which preached the truth lies useless in His Throat. That Face, which once was brighter than the Sun, is now deadly pale. Those Cheeks, which once were fair as a turtle-dove’s, are fair no longer. Those Hands, by which the heavens were spread out, are pierced now with cruel nails. The Knees, so often bent in prayer, hang now limp and powerless. The Legs, which like marble pillars used to support the Body’s weight, have now lost all their strength. The Feet, which were so often weary when the gospel was being preached, are now as tightly fastened to the wood of the Cross as if they were fixed in the stocks. It can be seen that every Limb has been in agony; they are each one covered with wounds and blood. But His bones are not broken, as are the bones of the thieves: and this is in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled; for He is the true Lamb, prefigured in the Book of the Law, the bones of which were ordered to be kept unbroken. This is my Beloved, O ye daughters of Jerusalem; This is my Friend; and it is to this pass that death has brought Him, in exchange for Whose Death—so precious was He—if I could submit to a thousand deaths, I could make no due return for His love.
O most sweet Jesus, Redeemer of my soul, how can I win to die with Thee upon the Cross; how, at my departure from the body, can I obtain such happiness? Grant, I earnestly beseech Thee, that in this frail body I may so live, so order all my doings and all my affections in accordance with Thy Will, that I may be able to finish my course in a state of grace; and in spite of all the temptations which beset me, may receive at last the crown of joy eternal.