Jn 19:25-27
. . . But standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister,
Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 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."
The Gospel of the Lord.
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Stabat Mater dolorosa
Iuxta Crucem lacrimosa
Dum pendebat filius
At the cross her station keeping
Stood the mournful mother weeping
Close to Jesus to the last.
The 13th century Stabat Mater Dolorosa is one of the greatest of all Latin hymns. It has been set to music by composers from Palestrina in the 16th century through Rossini in the 19th to Poulenc and Szymanowski in the 20th. The hymn meditates on the sorrows of Mary, Mother of Jesus. It recalls the sorrows prophesied at Jesus' presentation in the Temple as recounted in Luke's Gospel: "Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother, 'Behold this child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against and a sword will pierce through your own soul also."
Each verse recounts another dimension of the pathos as Mary stood at the foot of her Son's cross--that "sign that is spoken against"--that she heard of in Simeon's prophecy many years earlier.
"Cuius animam gementem,
Contristatam et colentem,
Pertransivit gladius."
"Through her heart, His sorrow sharing,
All His bitter anguish bearing,
Now at length the sword had passed."
Place yourself in the scene. Go to Calvary in your mind's eye and watch the scene described by John. Jesus, hanging on the cross as life ebbs from his body. Mary, His Mother watching, the words of Simeon ringing in her ears. The beloved disciple. Helpless and hopeless at the loss of all he had found in Jesus. How does Jesus' voice sound? Is it strong? Or does he struggle to speak in a hoarse whisper? Is Mary standing straight and stoic? Or is she collapsing under the unique grief of a mother watching her child die? What of John? Does he remain standing in the same in place? Or does he move closer to the woman who is now his mother?
Note that Jesus said "Behold your mother." He did not say "my mother" but "your mother." In this charge and in his words to Mary, "Woman behold your son" Jesus confirmed Mary's role as the new Eve, mother to us all, a mother whose obedience reversed Eve's sin, a reversal that began when she replied to the angel, "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; may it be done unto me according to your word."
"Pro peccatis suae gentis
Vidit Iesum in tormentis,
Et flagellis subditum."
"For His people's sins rejected,
Saw her Jesus unprotected,
All with bloody scourges rent."
Remain there contemplating the scene. Gaze up at Jesus suspended between heaven and earth. He is close to death. Exhausted by the struggle. Haggard. Dehydrated. Pale from blood loss.
During his two long retreats praying the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, a Jesuit is instructed by Ignatius to place himself at the foot of the cross and then: "Imagine Christ our Lord on the cross. Ask yourself how, from Creator, Jesus is come to make Himself man, and so to die for my sins. Likewise, looking at myself ask: What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What ought I to do for Christ?
However, on this Good Friday, as we commemorate Christ's passion and death, there is another triple colloquy we must make:
What has Christ done for me?
What is Christ doing for me?
What will Christ do for me?
While we could probably come to some sort of agreement on an answer for the first question, what has Christ done for me, the answers to, what is Christ doing for me and what will Christ do for me will be unique to each of us. Perhaps they will never be raised to a level of answers we can articulate. They may have to remain answers that we can only experience in silent prayer.
"Fac, ut ardeat cor meum,
In amando Christum Deum,
Ut sibi complaceam."
"Unto Christ with pure emotion,
Raise my contrite heart's devotion,
To read love in every wound."
We are sinners. But, we are sinners loved by God. Loved passionately and completely by God. We are loved by God who sent His only Son, born of Mary, who now stands at the foot of the cross. We are loved by God who sent His only Son to die for our sins and the sins of all humankind.
A little over three months ago--under very different circumstances than today--we were able to gather in churches throughout the world to celebrate Jesus' birth. We heard Luke's narrative of that event--the Christmas Story as it is commonly called. BUT . . . It is a story that is incomplete, and indeed, absurd if forced to stand alone. Were we not contemplating this gospel today, the Christmas story would make no sense. It would nothing more than a pretty story without meaning. We can only understand the Christmas story in today's context, it can only exist because of Jesus' passion, death, and resurrection.
Some of the greatest theological statements in history have been made not by academics, learned and professional theologians who write in jargon and agonize over Greek vowels, or who debate whether Jesus is just a metaphor or a symbol. The greatest theological statements have been made by men and women who didn’t just talk the talk. They walked the walk. They did the heavy lifting. One of them was the late Dag Hammarskjold, third Secretary General of the U.N. who died in a mysterious plane crash while negotiating peace in the Congo in 1961.
Hammarskjold captured the entire history of our salvation—the reason we are here today—in a haiku; a short poem of twelve simple words, a mere seventeen syllables:
On Christmas Eve, Good Friday
Was foretold them
In a trumpet fanfare
We know what Christ has done for us.
Now we are called to figure out,
What have I done for Christ?
What am I doing for Christ?
What ought I to do for Christ?
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One of the great graces my first year as a priest was Rev. Anita Ambrose's phone call to my mom in early 2008. Anita was long-time pastor of the Welsh Baptist Church on Shawnee Ave. I'd known her for years. She called to ask mom if I would be interested in preaching at the Ecumenical Good Friday service. Mom, ever practical replied, "Call him. Here is his number." (She never gave my number to anyone with whom I didn't share a few genes. Anita was special.) It took ten seconds to agree with one stipulation; I had to be done by 2:15 as I was the celebrant for the Good Friday liturgy that began at 3 PM at St. Mary's, four blocks away.
I am grateful to Anita for having me back for several years until distance took its toll, This is one of the homilies. It is much longer than I would ever give at the very long Good Friday liturgy. I also feel strongly that a priest should not preach at any kind of length after the reading of the entire Passion. The Passion can--and must be allowed to--stand on its own.
Took the photo in the choir loft in the Jesuit church on the grounds of Sevenhill Winery, in the Clare Valley, South Australia.
+Fr. Jack, SJ, MD
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