Showing posts with label Martyrs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Martyrs. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

VI. Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus

V. We adore Thee, O Christ, and we bless Thee.
R. Because by Thy Holy Cross Thou hast redeemed the world.

Do you think Veronica knew what she would do when she stepped out of the crowd to come to Christ as He carried the cross, His face disfigured by blood and grime?  Why did she not hide behind the others, expecting someone else to do something if anything could be done?

Perhaps Christ Himself caught her eye.  Perhaps she saw in that look such a longing for her love that she no longer cared what others would think and no longer cared what would happen if she stepped out.  His love has given so many the courage to die as martyrs.  It certainly would have been enough to compel her toward Him, His look answering the longing in her own heart.

When she reached Him, she must have wanted desperately to do something for Him.  She had nothing to give Him, no way to save Him.  Surely she must have felt powerless and hopeless in the face of such suffering.

Yet she did not let her powerlessness stop her.  She took off her own veil to wipe His face.  She did not lament the fact that she could not do more or that she could not remove His suffering, but she contented herself with making her own small act of love by wiping His face.  With her love, she brought Him consolation and at the same time accepted the Providence of God and the sacrifice of Christ her Lord whom she could not yet have fully known.

She expected nothing in return, but He gave her the image of His face impressed upon her veil.  What a great gift for so little!

Is it not so in our own lives as well?  We have nothing to give.  We are like the widow who can only give two pence.  Yet when we give what we do have in all of our weakness we find that God repays us with unfathomable generosity.

How can He love us so much?  And all He asks is that we love Him, thereby opening our hearts to His love...

Friday, November 17, 2017

The Crux of the Matter

"It is true, and even tautological,
to say that the cross
is the crux of the whole matter."
~G.K. Chesterton




So it is as we walk through this weary vale of tears: the Cross stands ever before us.  No matter how we flee it, dashing through the numberless pleasures that society advertises and thrusts upon us, no matter how we turn our backs and pretend we can live without it, no matter how we pursue the right course and seek the perfect solution to every problem, we cannot ever escape it.


Our failure to wipe it from our vision is as simple as its existence is omnipresent.  We may think we can close our eyes to the tortured body of Love upon it.




Yet we cannot escape its form.  So many times I catch myself half-consciously tracing its form in patterns on the floor or on a wall while my mind wanders elsewhere.  Wherever we look, it stares back at us, for it is the very basis of architectural structures that we take so much for granted.


Whenever we stare through old windows, it greets us, framing the landscape with inescapable significance: life is suffering—life is bound by the Cross.


We cannot escape its reality any more than we can escape death and taxes.  Whether we flee or turn to face it in the great trials or petty annoyances of our lives, whether we carry it willingly or drag it like a chain behind us, whether we are crushed beneath it or let it lift us up to the heavens, we will feel the weight of its rough wood.

What matters then is how we will face it.  When we come to the end of our lives will we be able to say that we have let it mark our steps with love and courage?


We have the choice before us in every moment of every day.  We may not be called to give our lives in military service (as the above graves attest) or die as martyrs, but of course we can die to ourselves in little ways at every moment of every day.  We can give up making sacrifices to our idols and turn instead to the God of love whose Cross lies in the very form of our bodies.

When you see the Cross like a dragon rear its ugly head before you, what will you do?  Will you let it remain only the means of your cruel execution or will you be transformed by it into a beautiful new creation?

It is your choice and your choice alone.