Lent: Christ’s Death on the Cross

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

“From the sixth hour, there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour, Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ When some of those who stood there heard this, they said, ‘The man is calling on Elijah,’ and one of them quickly ran to get a sponge which he filled with vinegar and, putting it on a reed, gave it to him to drink. But the rest of them said, ‘Wait! And see if Elijah will come to save him.’ But Jesus, again crying out in a loud voice, yielded up his spirit.

“And suddenly, the veil of the Sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom, the earth quaked, the rocks were split, the tombs opened, and the bodies of many holy people rose from the dead, and these, after his resurrection, came out of the tombs, entered the holy city, and appeared to a number of people” (Matt. 27:45-53).

Our Lord is nailed to the Cross. The liturgy sings: “Sweet nails, sweet tree where life begins” (Hymn, Adoration of the Cross).

The whole of Our Lord's life is directed towards this supreme moment. He has barely managed, gasping and exhausted, to get to the top of that hill called ‘the place of the skull” (Matt. 27:33).

The executioners stretch Him out on the ground and begin nailing Him to the wood. They place the nails first into His palms, piercing His torn flesh. Then He is hoisted up until He hangs straight from the vertical shaft of wood which has been fixed into the ground. The feet are then nailed. Mary, His Mother, contemplates the scene.

The Lord is firmly nailed to the Cross. He has waited for this for many years, and this day He is to fulfil His desire to redeem all men.

What until now has been an instrument of infamy and dishonor has been converted into the tree of life and the stairway of glory.

A deep joy fills Him as He extends His arms on the Cross, for all those sinners who will approach Him will now know that He will welcome them with open arms. He saw—and this filled Him with joy—how the cross was to be loved and to be adored, because He was going to die on it.

He saw the witnessing saints who for love and in defense of the truth were to suffer a similar martyrdom. He saw the love of His friends. He saw their tears at the foot of the Cross.

One writer says, “He saw the triumph and the victories Christians would achieve under the standard of the cross. He saw the great miracles which, with the sign of the cross, would be performed throughout the world. He saw so very many men who, with their lives, were going to be saints, because they would know how to die like him, overcoming sin” (Luis de la Palma, The Sacred Passion).

He reflected on the many occasions we would kiss the crucifix and our beginning again so often.

Jesus is raised on the Cross. Around Him is a distressing scene. Some pass by and jeer; the chief priests, more scathing and sarcastic, scoff at Him; others, indifferent, are mere spectators. There is no reproach in Our Lord's eyes—only pity and compassion.

He is offered harsh wine and myrrh. The Book of Proverbs says, “Give strong drink to him who is perishing, and wine to those in bitter distress; let them drink and forget their misfortune, and remember their misery no more” (Prov. 31:6-7).

It was the custom to make such humanitarian gestures with condemned men. The drink, a strong rough wine mixed with myrrh, had a numbing effect and made the suffering more bearable.

Our Lord tasted it as a sign of gratitude towards the person who offered it to Him, but wished to take no more, so as to drain the chalice of suffering.

“Why so much suffering?” asked St. Augustine. And he himself replies, “Everything he suffered was the price of our ransom” (St. Augustine, Commentary on Psalm 21).

He was not content to suffer a little. He wished to drink the chalice to the dregs without leaving a single drop behind, so that we might learn the greatness of His love and the baseness of sin, so that we might be generous in self-giving, in mortification, and in the service of others.

Crucifixion was the most cruel and insulting form of execution which was known in ancient times. A Roman citizen could not be crucified. Death followed a prolonged agony. At times, the executioners hastened the end of the crucifixion by breaking the legs of the crucified.

From apostolic times until today, there have been many who can't accept a God made man who died on a piece of timber to save us. St. Paul says the drama of the cross continues to be “a scandal for the Jews and folly to the Gentiles” (1 Cor. 1:23).

There has always been, and there still is today, a temptation to detract from the value of the Cross.

The intimate union of each Christian with his Lord requires a full knowledge of His life, this chapter of the Cross included.

Here the redemption is accomplished. Here one finds the key to suffering in the world. Here we learn a little about the malice of sin and the love of God for each man. We don't remain indifferent in front of a crucifix.

“By now, they have fastened Jesus to the wooden cross. The executioners have ruthlessly carried out the sentence. Our Lord, with infinite meekness, has let them have their way.

“It was not necessary for him to undergo so much torment. He could have avoided those trials, those humiliations, that ill-usage, that iniquitous judgment, and the shame of the gallows, and the nails and the lance… But he wanted to suffer all this for you and for me. And we, are we not going to respond?” asks St. Josemaría.

“Very likely,” he continues, ‘there will be times when alone in front of a crucifix, you find tears coming to your eyes. Don't try to hold them back. … But try to ensure that those tears give rise to a resolution’ (Josemaría Escrivá, The Way of the Cross, Eleventh Station, Points for Meditation, 1).

The fruits of the Cross were not long in coming. One of the thieves, acknowledging his sins, turns to Jesus: “Lord, remember me when you are in your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). He speaks to him with the confidence of a companion in anguish.

He would certainly have heard previously of Christ, of His life and of His miracles. But now he has met up with Jesus, just when it seems that His divinity is most obscurely hidden.

And he has seen Our Lord's behavior since they began to march up to Calvary. His silence is impressive, as is His compassionate gaze at the faces He encounters on the way. He has observed His great majesty despite His exhaustion and so much suffering.

The words he now utters are not extemporized. They express the end result of a process which began within him when he first met Christ.

He has not needed to see any miracle to be converted into a disciple of Christ; to be a first-hand witness to Christ's suffering has been sufficient. Many others were to be converted on meditating these same events of the Passion related in the Gospels.

Our Lord is moved when, in the midst of all the insults, He hears that voice which recognizes Him as God. After so much suffering, those words would have filled His heart with joy. “I assure you,” He replies, “that this day you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43).

The efficacy of the Passion is limitless. It has filled the world with peace, with grace, with forgiveness, with happiness in souls, with salvation. The Redemption which Christ carried out just once is applied to each person who freely accepts it.

Each one of us can truly say with St. Paul to the Galatians, “The Son of God…loved me and gave himself up for me” (Gal. 2:20).

In Lumen gentium of the Second Vatican Council, it says, “The salvific action of the Redemption is carried out whenever the Holy Mass is celebrated” (cf. Vatican II, Lumen gentium, Point 3, November 21, 1964).

But one writer says, “Jesus Christ wishes to submit himself out of love, fully conscious, totally free, and with a sensitive heart. … No one has ever died like Jesus Christ because he was Life itself. No one has expiated for sin like him, for he was purity itself” (Romano Guardini, Our Lord).

We now receive the copious fruits of the love of Jesus on the Cross. Only our ‘not wanting’ can waste for ourselves the Passion of Christ.

Very close to Jesus is His Mother, with the other holy women. There too is John, the youngest of the apostles. “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 into his own home” (John 19:26-27).

Our Lord, after giving Himself in the Last Supper, now wishes to give us what He loves most on earth, the most precious thing that still remains to Him. They've stripped Him of everything else. And He gives Mary to us to be Our Mother.

This gesture has a double significance. On the one hand, Our Lord takes care of His Mother, totally fulfilling the Fourth Commandment of the Decalogue. And on the other, He declares her to be Our Mother.

Lumen gentium of the Second Vatican Council says, “Thus the Blessed Virgin advanced in her pilgrimage of faith, and faithfully persevered in her union with her Son unto the Cross, where she stood, in keeping with the divine plan, enduring with her only begotten Son the intensity of his suffering, associating herself with his sacrifice in her mother's heart, and lovingly consenting to the immolation of this victim which was born of her. Finally, she was given, by the same Christ Jesus, dying on the Cross, as a mother to his disciple” (Vatican II, Lumen gentium, Point 58, November 21, 1964).

“The sun's light is extinguished and the earth is left in darkness. It is close to three o'clock, when Jesus cries out, ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?’ that is: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (Matt. 27:46).

“Then, knowing that all things were to be accomplished, that the Scriptures may be fulfilled, he says: ‘I am thirsty’ (John 19:28). The soldiers soak a sponge in vinegar and, placing it on a reed of hyssop, they put it to his mouth. Jesus sips the vinegar, and exclaims, ‘It is accomplished’ (John 19:30).

“The veil of the temple is rent, and the earth trembles, when the Lord cries out in a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit’ (Luke 23:46). And he expires” (J. Escrivá, The Way of the Cross, Twelfth Station).

In The Way of the Cross, St. Josemaría says, “Love sacrifice; it is a fountain of interior life. Love the Cross, which is an altar of sacrifice. Love pain, until you drink, as Christ did, the very dregs of the chalice” (ibid.).

With Our Lady, it will be much easier, and so we sing the liturgical hymn, the Stabat Mater: “O dear Mother, fount of love, Touch my spirit from above, Make my heart with yours accord. Let me mingle tears with you, Mourning him who mourned for me, All the days that I may live. By the cross with you to stay, There with you to weep and pray, All I ask of you to give.”

The obedience lived by Christ was not a matter of mere submission to the Will of the Father. Christ became obedience itself. He became perfectly united to the plans of the Father for the salvation of the human race. Christ practiced an active obedience.

“A very good sign,” said St. Thomas Aquinas, “of one's being on the right road in the spiritual life, is one's willingness to obey others” (Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Epistle to the Philippians).

One writer says, “Pride inclines us to do our own will and to seek what exalts us, not to wish to be directed by others, but to direct them. Obedience is opposed to this pride. The only Son of the Father came down from heaven to save us, to cure our pride, becoming obedient unto death, even to death on the cross” (Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange, The Three Ages of the Interior Life).

Our Lord wants to teach us the path of self-denial. The Psalm says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Ps. 119:105).

Obedience springs from freedom, [while] at the same time leading us to greater freedom. When a person obeys with all their heart, they're actually conserving their freedom by choosing the good.

This truth is somewhat analogous to the situation of a person going on a trip. Without a doubt, he doesn't feel restricted by the markings on the highway. Similarly, a mountain climber does not feel constrained by the rope that ties him to his companions. There are many [such] examples which can be taken from ordinary life.

Love is essential to Christian obedience. There are bonds that are in chain and there are bonds that loosen. The bonds that tie one climber to another by a rope bind him down. He can only go forward at the pace of the person behind him or in front of him. It loosens him from the danger of falling into the abyss. And so also, the bonds of obedience can bind us from falling into many abysses.

Christ obeyed the Will of His Father, not because He had to, but rather because He wanted to.

“Love is what makes our obedience fully free,” said one writer. “For the person who wants to follow Christ, the law is never a burden. It becomes a burden only insofar as one fails to discern the call of Christ.

“Therefore, if the law sometimes seems burdensome, it may not be the law so much as our keenness to follow Christ that needs amending. ‘If you love me,’ said Our Lord, ‘you will keep my commandments’ (John 14:15). That is why I want to obey you and your Church, Lord; not [primarily] because I see the reasonableness of what is commanded, though that reasonableness is often so evident. No, primarily because I want to love you, and to show you my love. And also because I am convinced that your commandments come from love and set me free. ‘I will run in the way of your commandments when you enlarge my understanding’ (Ps. 119:32). ‘I shall walk at liberty, for I have sought your precepts’ (Ps. 119:45), say the Psalms.” (Cormac Burke, Authority and Freedom in the Church).

In the first Book of Samuel, we're told, “To obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Sam. 15:22). St. Gregory comments, “It is fitting that obedience is juxtaposed to the sacrificial victims. For just as the animal meat is immolated, so too obedience involves the immolation of our will” (Gregory the Great, Morals).

The submission of our will to the will of another in a constant way can be heroic. This sacrifice, the immolation of our will, can be the most difficult one to perform because it concerns our innermost being. That is why it's so pleasing to Our Lord. This may explain why Our Lord was so emphatic about the indispensable nature of this virtue.

We shouldn't forget that our teacher in obedience is the One whom “even the winds and the sea obey” (Matt. 8:27). And so, all interior progress relates to growth in this key virtue.

This concept is stressed throughout the whole of the Old Testament. The Book of Proverbs says, “An obedient man shall speak of victory” (Prov. 21:28).

He who obeys will triumph. He will obtain grace and light from God. St. Peter told the high priest and the council, “We are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey him” (Acts 5:32). St. Teresa exclaimed, “Oh, virtue of obedience! It can do everything!” (Teresa of Ávila, Life).

Because this virtue is so important to our pursuit of sanctity, the devil tempts us with all manner of excuses so that we might disobey. The practice of Christian obedience unites us to the mystery of the Cross and our Redemption (cf. Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans).

The person who sets limits on his obedience is consequently setting limits on his union with Christ. A disobedient person will not be able to imitate Our Lord. “Have this in mind among you,” says St. Paul, “which was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant…” (Phil. 2:5-7).

We can ask Our Lady to inspire us to imitate Christ through our humble obedience. St. Josemaría in the Furrow says, “Obey without so much useless brooding. … Appearing sad or reluctant when asked to do something is a very considerable fault. But just to feel like this is not only no fault, but can in fact be the opportunity for a great victory, for crowning an act of heroic virtue.

“I have not invented this,” he says. “Remember the Gospel tells us that a father asked his two sons to do the same job. And Jesus rejoices in the one who, despite raising difficulties, does it! (Matt. 21:28-32). He rejoices because discipline is the fruit of Love” (J. Escrivá, Furrow, Point 378).

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

EW