Author: Lana Kaczmarek

Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.” They divided his garments by casting lots. The people stood by and watched; the rulers, meanwhile, sneered at him and said, “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Messiah of God.” (LK 23:35-36)

The Cross is a great school for us. We learn about infinite love and divine mercy. And Jesus, our teacher and our master teaches us by example that God is truly love and that God is most merciful. After all the rejection, harsh words, hate and anger, Jesus remains on the Cross to show us what true love looks like and what Divine Mercy sounds like when he prays to the Father to forgive those who have offended him, rejected him, abused him, neglected him. Doesn’t that include us? Aren’t we guilty of offending Jesus? Our merciful God has sent his Only-Begotten Son into this world to save us, to love us, to forgive us. But this requires that we seek forgiveness with a contrite heart and desire to mend our ways, to change our life and sin no more. The Examen Prayer from the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius is a great tool in examining our minds and testing our hearts in ways we might have offended God and failed to love one another. The format is easy to follow and can easily be used in daily prayer. First place yourself in silence and ask God to set his gaze upon your heart. Be mindful of God’s presence. Then Give thanks to God for the graces and blessings received throughout the day. Then ask the Holy Spirit for the grace to know your sins and to reveal to you the ways you have offended God, family, friends, neighbor, enemy, self. Then review your thoughts, your actions, your feelings, your conversations throughout the day.  Then with a contrite heart, ask God to forgive you. With the help of God’s grace, desire to change your heart and to amend your life and your ways. Finish your prayer of examination with an “Our Father.” The more contrite your heart can be, the more you will come to see and experience the God who loves you.

Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, 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 home. (JN 19:25-27)

The word “behold” signifies an action whereby one draws all their energy, all their attention, to recollect themselves and see, really see without distortion or distraction that which our undivided attention has been requested to gaze upon. To see something as it is. To see it as it really is or to see someone as they really are. That is to say: to see clearly what or who is set before us. To see without judgement, without comment, without rush. Jesus asks us to behold his mother, to “behold, your mother.” What do you see when you set your gaze upon Mary? Do you, “behold, your mother” or do you only see the mother of Jesus? To behold Mary, is to have a personal, intimate relationship with her – that is, to understand that Mary is truly the Mother of Jesus and our beloved mother, the Mother of God. We must realize, accept and rejoice in the fact that we are beloved sons and daughters of God, our Father and beloved sons and daughters of Mary, our mother. Jesus loves his mother. He loves her with a great and perfect affection and Mary loves her son with her whole undivided heart, with her whole undivided body, with her whole undivided mind, with her whole undivided soul. Mary loves Jesus in her lowliness and in her joyfulness, in her poverty and in her holiness, with all her heart and with all her strength. She loves Jesus with her entire being. It is a mother’s perfect love for her God and for her child. Jesus loves Mary as he loves us. That is to the point of death, death on a cross. Jesus’ concern at the foot of the Cross is that his Mother would be loved and looked after in his absence as he returns to the right hand of the Father. Jesus wants you to behold, your mother, Mary. Will you spend some time in prayer with her this week at the foot of the Cross to comfort her in her great sorrow? Imagine how Mary feels at the foot of the Cross to see her poor child, innocent of the crimes he was accused of, rejected for believing in God, mocked with unspeakable blasphemies, beaten to the point of being unrecognizable, murdered by excruciating pain and torture, then dying on a cross. Mary could use some comfort. Mary could use your undivided attention, a commitment to prayer and your loving presence. It would bring great consolation to our Mother Mary. It would bring great comfort to our Beloved Savior. Know that when Mary is asked to behold her child she draws all her attention to us. She draws all the attention of her Son to us. Mary loves us. We are her beloved children. So behold your mother for she has already set her gaze upon you.

Now two others, both criminals, were led away with him to be executed. When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him and the criminals there, one on his right, the other on his left. (LK 23:32-33)

Who can really understand the depths of your love O Lord, or the profound humility of your Sacred Heart or your Sacred Way? When we look upon the Cross, our hearts should bow down in extreme contriteness in order to see the meekness and humbleness of our God and ask you to make our hearts like yours. Sweet Savior, inspire us to retreat from the world and to seek your face this day. Encourage us to take a moment to put ourselves in sacred silence. To hold the Cross, look upon it and contemplate who could love us this much. Help us to hold you, Our Savior, the Savior of the world in our hands and to look into your eyes that have been pierced by hatred. O my Jesus, we need to experience the depth of your love for us. A love that has been pour out, completely spent, broken and beaten down for us. You lowered yourself from the heights of the heavenly realm with all its perfection and all its glory and all its beauty to come into complete darkness and desolation and despair. Why don’t we know how amazing your love is? You left the security and the peacefulness and the comfort of your glorious home to enter into our sinful humanity. You entered this world that is suffocating, fading, ending. Who would do such a thing? Your own people refused to listen to you. We belittled you. We doubted you. And still, you remained – you stayed with us. You ate with sinners, you touched the unclean, you spoke to the unholy, you fed the hungry, you restored what was lost. And still, your own people jeered at you, we questioned you, we did not believe in you. Our blindness is severe. Our hatred is deep. Our own sinfulness has hardened our hearts, corrupted our thoughts, shut down our ability to forgive. Our sinfulness has numbed our sensitivity to be loved, to be compassionate, to be merciful. O Lord, dispel our darkness to see the depth of your love on the Cross. Defrost the coldness of our hearts that we may experience the great love you have for humanity. Melt away our pride and stubbornness so that we can truly fear “the lost of heaven and the pains of hell.” Help us with the grace to be moved to meekness and to be humbled by your humility. Like the other thief, may we turn to you on the Cross, acknowledge your innocence and repent from our sinfulness and asked you to remember us when you come into your Kingdom.

“As they led him away they took hold of a certain Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country; and after laying the cross on him, they made him carry it behind Jesus.” (LK 23:26)

The Cross remains for us the one definitive act in God’s love where he expresses unconditionally his love for all humanity. The Cross symbolizes God allowing himself in Jesus to be cursed and utterly humiliated for the sake of saving us. God proves his love to the point of death on a cross. Jesus would tell us no one has greater love than this. How does the Cross make you feel? What do you see when you look upon the Cross? Do you see Jesus dying because he chose not to disclose that you are the one, not he who is guilty of blasphemy? Jesus embraces the Cross for love of poor sinners. When given the Cross, he embraces it, kisses it and graciously carries the Cross to repair and atone for our sins and to pay the price for our sinfulness. He never complains. He remains silent not telling anyone how guilty we are. What if you were asked to take the place of Simon? How would you respond? Would you try to find an excuse to walk away? Would you look at Jesus with contempt as Simon did? He was concerned for himself wanting everyone to know that unlike Jesus, he was innocent of any crime and not a criminal. Simon has to be forced to assist Jesus. Do you have to be forced to assist Jesus? As Simon helps carry the Cross, he encounters the God who loves him. One look into Jesus’ eyes and Simon sees humility, innocence, vulnerability, love, patience, peace. Simon cries for he realizes the truth about who Jesus is. He is not a criminal. He is innocent. He is the Messiah who has allowed himself to be bruised, beaten and broken for the salvation of souls. For the salvation of Simon’s soul. For the salvation of our souls. Simon now understands he is a poor sinner in need of redemption. He is a poor sinner in need of this cross. He understands that he is not helping to carry Jesus’ Cross but that Jesus is helping him to carry his cross. What do you see when you gaze upon the Cross? Can you see God pouring out all his love until it hurts? Can you see God giving everything until it can hurt no more? Do you understand that no one loves you more than this or can ever love you more than this? As Jesus carries the Cross, that is, as Jesus carries your cross, he is loving you in every step, in every fall, to the point of death – death on a cross.

“The soldiers wove a crown out of thorns and placed it on his head, and clothed him in a purple cloak, and they came to him and said, “Hail, King of the Jews!” And they struck him repeatedly. Once more Pilate went out and said to them, “Look, I am bringing him out to you, so that you may know that I find no guilt in him.” So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple cloak. And he said to them, “Behold, the man!” (JN 19:2-5)

Jesus is the King of kings and the Lord of lords. He is the actual Word uttered by God made visible. The mere sound of his Sacred Name causes all creatures in Heaven and Earth and below the Earth to bow and worship him unceasingly. One would think since he is the Divine Majesty, his crown would be made out of the purest gold and covered with the most precious stones and adorned with the rarest gems. But this king is a shepherd king, a servant king, a poor, meek and humble king. His crown is a Crown of Thorns – The crown of the Messiah, the King of the Jews. When we contemplate the Crown of Thorns, in addition to seeing the pain suffered by Christ, one should also see our gracious Savior praying, loving, repairing for the sins of all humanity. What an amazing grace it is to understand this. Not to look at the Cross in shame or as something shameful, but to see love, God’s love, how he loves. We needed Jesus to die. To die such a cruel death so as to melt the stubbornness of our hearts and dispel the wickedness from our minds that we might see, feel and experience the profundity of God’s love for humanity, his amazing patience, the intimate love he has for each one of us. Jesus had to die a horrific death for each one of us, to free each one of us. Our minds and hearts couldn’t possibly comprehend God’s love on their own. We need to understand that Jesus allowed himself to be mocked and humiliated and crowned with thorns to show us what unconditional love looks like. O Lord, our souls belong to you, long for you, thank you for granting us pardon and peace. Our bodies give you thanks for not destroying us but preserving us as instruments of your peace, cups of salvation, temples of your holy glory. O Lord, our hearts love you for you cleansed them, washed them, kissed them and made them your own. Our spirits rejoice in you. We love being with you, ministering with you, helping others through you, remaining in silence and in prayer with you. At times, our minds can be far from you. At times heavy, at times tired, at times sluggish. Our minds are always analyzing, always questioning, always suspicious. Sweet Savior, our gracious Lord and King. May your Crown of Thorns pierce our minds with your marvelous light and saving grace. May we be crowned in your glory.

They shouted, “Crucify him.” So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas to them and, after he had Jesus scourged, handed him over to be crucified. (MK 15:14-15)

Noise is just that, noise. Noise wants to drown out the sound of truth, the sound of sweetness, the sound of goodness. It chooses to overwhelm, it plans to overcome, it has to overtake silence. Noise wants to be seen. It wants to be heard. Noise draws all attention to itself. It is an unpleasant sound that seeks to confuse, to deafen, to silence the voice of faith, reason and truth. I am struck by the noise, the yelling, the screaming in the Passion of Christ. The crowds are angry, hostile, noisy.  They desire to drown out the truth of who Jesus is, why he came, all he did. The noise of the crowd wants to ensure the Word of God, the words of encouragement, all the miracles are hushed, quieted, silenced so that truth cannot be heard, so it can’t be seen. But truth always flows from the precious lips of Jesus. Truth is who he is. And although we are deaf to the truth, the truth never changes, it is relentless, it never gives up, it never ceases to exist or to be true. The truth sets us free. It moves us, challenges us to change. It makes us work at being good, at being holy, at being truthful. O my sweet Savior, how can anyone hear the racing of your heart beat or the pains of your body trembling or the moaning of your soul in agony or the sound of your tears and blood hitting the ground when there is so much hatred, so much yelling, so much rejection. They yell for your death. They yell out all the louder, “Crucify him!” “Crucify him!” The truth of your love is drowned out by pride and selfishness, greed and ignorance, fear and fearfulness.  Our hearts, our souls, our spirits want to hear you. They need to hear the truth that you love us. But our minds are plagued with darkness and temptation. They refuse to listen. Our minds oppose truth. They fail to understand that without you, we are nothing. Without you, we can do nothing. Without you, we cease to exist. Sin renders us helpless. It causes us to be hopeless, weak and pitiful. We lack wisdom, we lack knowledge, we lack understanding, we lack counsel, we lack strength. We become unholy, ungodly, noisy, fearful of everything except the one thing we should fear the most — being separated from you.

“Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived, accompanied by a crowd with swords and clubs who had come from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders. His betrayer had arranged a signal with them, saying, “The man I shall kiss is the one; arrest him and lead him away securely.” (MK 14:43-44)

As I pray in the Garden of Gethsemane, I hear the marching of soldiers, the clanking of chains, the anger, the hate, the deception, the greed. My heart grows faint, my eyelids become heavy. I am weak but remain with Jesus. The sound of his sighs, the whisper of his cry leads me to uncontrollable tears. God gives me the grace to see beyond my own sinfulness and to see Jesus suffering in his humanity. He suffers for all of humanity. He suffers for you and for me. He suffers for everyone. He loves you and he loves me. He loves everyone. Rejection is hard for us. We take it so personal. We tend to make everything about us. We make it all about ourselves. Usually, rejection is a response to our lack of charity, our selfishness, our pride, our desire for power and control. But the rejection Jesus suffers is from hearts grown cold that have simply rejected love and mercy. The pain is unbearable. Rejected through a kiss. Betrayed by the kiss of peace. The sadness is unbearable. Jesus is rejected because he is good, innocent, pure, holy. He is rejected because of our own selfishness, stubbornness, pridefulness. We reject him because of guilt, shame, reluctance to ask for forgiveness and foolishness in receiving it. Every time we sin, we reject Jesus. We hurt and kill our Savior. But Jesus is kind and merciful. He invites us to follow him, to console him with his love. He invites us to see his humanity suffering and in the suffering of his humanity he wants to love us. O my Jesus, the thought of comforting you, even in the midst of so much noise and so many tears, moves me to say yes Lord, I will stay with you, I will come to you, I will pray with you, I will follow you. O my Jesus, how you love us and till this day feel the wounds we caused by our ingratitude, our childlessness, our greed, our ignorance. Our thoughts must be like daggers to your Divine Intellect, our inappropriate acts like a jack hammer to your Blessed Hands, our blasphemies like the sound of an atomic bomb to your Holy Ears, our pornographic vision like acid to your Precious Eyes and the hardness of our hearts like venom to your Most Sacred Heart. Forgive us Jesus. Forgive us our trespasses. Help us to use your Will, your Thoughts, your Words, your Body to atone for our sins and those of the whole world. Jesus, we believe in you, we love you, we trust in you.

Then they came to a place named Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter, James, and John, and began to be troubled and distressed. Then he said to them, “My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and keep watch.” (MK 14:32-34)

In the Agony in Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus invites us into a prolonged suffering. He welcomes us into his prayer, into his pains, into the depths of his sorrow, into the agony of his heart. We share the disciples lack of understanding. For this night is different than any other night. Jesus’ heart is heavy. His eyes sad. His face weary. Who could know a passion so pure? Who could understand a love so sacrificial? The disciples seem to be out of place, without words, without prayer, without sleep. They do not understand. Who could love this much? It is fear that keeps them and still keeps us from knowing this profound love. It is a lack of freely experiencing this profound love that prevents them and still prevents us from going deep into the Heart of Jesus. Deep into the place of Holy Love and Holy Communion. This is especially true when we know that it is our own sinfulness that caused Jesus’ affliction, his sadness, his concern. We are the cause of his great pain and intense suffering. It is our own fear of pain and sorrow that keeps us from asking Jesus, What is it? What’s wrong? Why are you troubled? Why are you trembling? Why do you look so frightened? Why are you so sad? At first, we do not want to know the answer because we feel it will involve something from us. Perhaps a change. Perhaps a sacrifice. Perhaps a choice. We don’t understand this kind of unconditional love that burns so intensely in our human body and in our human nature. We seem to oppose this kind of divine love. We seem to be habitually prone to selfishness, to self love, to making it about us and not about Jesus. But Jesus wants us to know that he wants to do this for love of us. He wants us to move pass the fear that cripples us and into the love that frees us. The image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus reflects his agony and the great love he has for us. He so freely suffers to bring us relief. The flames of Jesus’ heart burn so brightly for us; ever so intensely – purifying, freeing, cleansing, suffering for our sake, suffering because of us, suffering for love of us. Jesus’ heart cries out to us. It speaks to us from a profound silence and a place perhaps unfamiliar to us. It sends forth a whisper that echos inside of us. “I love you. The hour has come. Behold, the Son of Man is to be handed over to sinners.”

When it was evening, he came with the Twelve. And as they reclined at table and were eating, Jesus said, “Amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” They began to be distressed and to say to him, one by one, “Surely it is not I?” (MK 14:17-19)

Every Passionist takes a special vow, a solemn promise, a sacred oath to spend their life honoring and promoting the remembrance of the Passion of Christ. They do this by remembering his suffering and death on the Cross as Jesus himself reminds us, “do this in memory of me.” This is at the heart of the charism of the Passionists. It is their pledge to keep the memory of the Cross alive deep within their hearts and to do whatever is in their power to remind others of the great love and sacrifice that has redeemed us and brought us the eternal gift of salvation. The habit of the Passionists is a constant reminder of the promise they professed as consecrated religious. The emblem on the habit is appropriately called the “Sign” a cross on top of a heart and within the heart are the words: “The Passion of Jesus Christ.” The vision of St. Paul of the Cross, founder of the Passionists, was that the Passion of Christ be remembered by all. That it would be always in our hearts. This way, we would never forget “that God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” The Cross is the ultimate sign and symbol, expression and realization of the profound love God has for us, his people.  The problem is that our hearts are easily disquieted, deceived, distracted. Our hearts are often divided, torn, separated. We easily forget the Cross, the sacrifice, the cost. We easily forget God, his love, his mercy. We easily forget all that God has done for us to save us, to love us, to heal us and to bring us home. We betray God’s love so easily in our thoughts, in our words, in what we have done and in what we have failed to do. We betray him when we use our words to curse another rather than to extend a blessing. We betray God when we use our thoughts to tear people down rather than to build them up. We betray God when we use our eyes for lusting rather than beholding. We betray God when we use our ears for gossip rather than listening to the sweet sounds of sacred silence. We betray God when we use our bodies for pleasure rather than using it for prayer and praise and worship. Let us keep our eyes securely fixed on the Cross and let our hearts be forever possessed by it. “May the Passion of Christ be always in our hearts.”

On the night he was handed over, [Jesus] took bread, and, after he had given thanks, broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Cor 11:24-25)

Our spiritual lives play out in the rhythm of the Liturgical Year. We live in concert with the changes of its Seasons as we welcome the birth of the Christ Child, celebrate new life through him, honor his Passion and Death, then celebrate the joy of his Resurrection. Our lives seem to follow a similar pattern. Christmas brings us the joy of something new. A new year, new possibilities, a fresh new start. The season of Ordinary Time brings us the opportunity to learn more, to grow more, to better develop and form our Catholic faith and Christian identity. Lent, on the other hand, is a season to slow down the pace. It is a time to detach more, to pray more, to reflect more and to reevaluate our lives.  It is a great opportunity to take an introspective look within our hearts and within our lives and to determine what is hurtful or not helpful to our spiritual lives. It is an opportunity to let go. To be stripped of the things that distract us, that harm our spiritual growth and that keep us from more fully living out our living and dying in Christ. It is the definitive time of the year to deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow Jesus to Jerusalem. It is there where we mourn and suffer the hurt, the pain and the effects of our sin. It is a moment of joyous hope and joyful expectation at the thought of being transformed into the risen Christ through the help of God’s grace. Of being transformed into a new creation and into a new life in Christ. We conclude the year by taking a retrospective look back to measure how we did. We identify what needs to change and determine if we are better prepared for the moment when Christ comes again in glory. The entire year is certainly important and critical to our spiritual journey. But in a special way we hold Holy Week close to our hearts as a the most sacred part of the Liturgical Year and the Season of Grace. It is at the heart of our Christian faith. In the Institution of the Holy Eucharist, we come to understand the source and summit of our faith. Jesus literally becoming food for us. Not just spiritual food but “True Food and True Drink” that we simply cannot live without. Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.”