Reflections
on the Passion
by Father
Doyle
October 12, 1956
NIHIL OBSTAT:
JOANNES A. SCHULIEN, S.T.D.
Censor liborium
IMPRIMATOR:
+ ALBERTUS G.MEYER
Archiepiscopus Milwauchiensis
Monday
After Passion Sunday:
IT
IS noteworthy that
Holy Scripture records first, that peter
emphasized his third denial with curses and oaths; and second that the
cock crowed for the third time, at which instant it suddenly dawned on
Peter that this is the very thing Christ had foretold; and third, that
“the Lord turned and looked upon Peter and he remembered the word of
the Lord, how He said: ‘Before the cock crows, thou wilt deny me
thrice,’ and Peter went out and wept bitterly” (Lk. 22: 61-62).
There is a powerful
lesson to
be drawn from the fact that Peter
endeavored to strengthen his third denial by cursing and
swearing. Peter had been and was a fisherman. Before being
converted and called to the apostolate, he had been a man of strong
language. The three years with the gentle Christ had weaned him
away from that habit. He was certain, no doubt, that he had
mastered control of his tongue and language. Certainly the
companionship with Christ had done much, but it had not done all.
The “old man” was still alive and the “new man” was weak, and so the
battle ensued and the old habits were quick to return. From this,
we may learn that the fact that we have not committed sins of habit for
a long time does not mean that they are completely eradicated. We
must ever be on the watch and pray that we may not fall into them in
times of temptation or stress.
Next, note that it
was not
until the cock crowed thrice that Peter
remembered the words of our Lord. It is hard to understand why
Peter did not realize what was happening after he heard the crow of the
rooster after the first denial. And why did Peter not remember
Christ’s prediction after the second denial? No, it took three
denials and a heartbreaking glance from the gentle Savior to touch
Peter’s heart, and to recall to mind the words of the Lord concerning
Peter’s vain boasting about fidelity.
Learn from this that
sin
deadens the heart to every voice and blinds
the eye to sin. From your own experience perhaps you can recall
occasions when you yourself were so attached to sin that the warnings
of your parents, the stirring sermons of retreats and parish missions
left you cold and unmoved.
It may well have
been that
the gentle Savior looked tenderly at you too
as He did at Peter. How wonderful is our God, who at a time when
He Himself was about to be sentenced to the cruel death of the cross,
thought of His poor weak Apostle, and forgot Himself and His own
condition to cast a tender, merciful, understanding glance at His
follower. “He spoke with His eye,” says Erasmus. The power
that went with that look struck Peter’s heart. Without the calm
sovereignty of that look, without its accompanying pitying kindness,
Peter might well have followed the footsteps of Judas.
Walk the Way of the
Cross
today and beg of the gentle Christ to let His
sacred healing glance fall upon you as it fell upon Simon the Cyrenian,
St. Veronica, and the women who wept as He passed. Catch His eye
as He falls under the cross and beg of Him to preserve you from despair.
Tuesday
After Passion Sunday:
THE fact
that Christ looked
at peter as the cock crowed for the third
time is recorded only in St. Luke’s Gospel, but Luke, Matthew, and mark
all record that “Peter went out and wept bitterly.” That look of
the Master cut Peter to the quick. As Moses’ rod once struck the
rock and water flowed, so the gentle glance of Christ caused Peter’s
heart to overflow. That heart was singularly touched, and the
fear-frozen memories thawed into penitential tears.
Peter’s conversion followed a
fine pattern. First, you will
notice that Peter went out – he left the place and persons who
occasioned his shameful denial of our Lord. There can never be
any true and lasting conversion until, and unless, we are
determined to avoid the occasions of sin – that is, any person, place,
or thing that may cause us to fall. We will notice, too, that
when Peter took himself away from the evil company he was in, he was
able to look at Christ and Christ at him. Whoever wants to cleave
to God must sever himself from God’s enemies. Avoid, therefore,
evil companions.
Consider next that Peter’s
repentance was immediate. He did not
put off his conversion and repentance. Many of us desire to avoid
sin and be really converted but, like St. Augustine, say in folly, “but
not yet.” We seem to put more than ordinary trust in becoming
holy when our vices have forsaken us. We dwell too often on the
easy conversion of the Good Thief, but as St. Augustine warns: “Christ
pardoned one thief on the cross to show that such things are possible,
but only one to show it was rare.”
Let us ask ourselves
why
Peter wept. First, in his quiet moments
he realized that he had denied his Lord. Have we not all at one
time or another denied our Lord/ If you have deliberately missed
Mass; given scandal or bad example; resisted God’s will or that
of His Church – then take your place with Peter.
The second thing
that brought
peter to penitential tears was the
thought of the excellence of the Lord whom he had denied. Have
you thought seriously of how much Christ has done for you, the graces
He has merited for and showered upon you – the home, the health, the
advantages He has provided for you?
Third, Peter
remembered the
position in which the Lord had placed him –
converting, befriending, and calling him to his apostolate. Has
Christ not placed us all in positions of honor and trust as
Christians? Do we not call ourselves Christians, followers of
Christ? Yet not only have we not always followed Christ, but we
may well have led souls away from Christ by our bad examples and sins.
Fourth, Peter
recollected
that he had been forewarned. Have we
not sinned against the light and with full knowledge and full consent
in grave matters? Oh, have we not all frequently resisted the
Holy Ghost, our conscience, and the warnings of parents, teachers, and
the Church? Think about your wanderings, backslidings and your
small progress on the road to perfection!
Peter fell
dreadfully, but by
repentance rises sweetly. A look of
love melts him into tears. Clement notes that Peter was so
repentant that all his life after, when he heard a rooster crow, he
would fall upon his knees, and weeping, would beg pardon for his
sins. Beg of Peter to teach you the necessity and the way of true
repentance.
Wednesday
After Passion Sunday:
THE
charge of blasphemy was
hurled against Christ by Caiphas, and,
after rending his garments – a ritualistic sign of finality – the high
priest left the gathering of the Sanhedrin and the group dispersed
leaving Christ to the sport of the soldiers. St. Luke puts it this
way: “And the men who had him in custody began to mock him and
beat him. And they blindfolded him and kept striking his face,
and asking him, saying Prophesy, who is that struck thee?” And
many other things they kept saying against him, reviling Him” (Lk. 22:
63-65). St. Matthew adds that they “spat in his face and buffeted
him” (Mt. 26: 67).
There is hardly
another scene
in the whole terrible story of the
Passion that compares with the one in which mere mortals taunted,
mimicked, maltreated, and grossly insulted the veritable Son of
God. No artist has ever tried to portray this vicious
scene. We have paintings by famous artist of the flagellation,
the crowning of thorns, and the crucifixion but none has dared to
depict the scene wherein Christ was so basely treated in the home of
the high priest Caiphas in the early hours of the morning following His
arrest. Not one artist has dared portray men spitting into the
adorable face of God. It shocks even one’s imagination to conjure
up such a picture.
The worst criminal
would have
been given time to rest before his
arraignment before the Roman authorities on the morrow. He would
have been given bread and water, but not Christ. Small comforts
were denied Him. He was bound to a small pillar by iron chains
and bound in such a position as not to be able to stand erect or to
fall to the hard floor. In His darkened hour in the garden of
Olives an angel came to comfort Him, but here, He saw naught but the
cruel soldiers mocking and reviling Him. Even His enemies were shut off
from Him by the dirty cloth with which He was blindfolded. “Thou
dost claim to be a Prophet,” they shouted. “Well, tell us who is
striking Thee.” You say You are a king – well, You will be
crowned a king tomorrow. All the time they reviled and mocked
Him, the soldiers kept striking, kicking, and spitting into His face.
Who is it that
endures such
torments? It is Jesus Christ, the Son
of God, at whose birth the angels sang: “Glory to God in the
highest,” the same one of whom God the Father said: “This is my
beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Mt. 3:17). What has
happened that He is so abandoned and so insulted? Let us say here
and now that no one compelled Christ to undergo this torment. He
offered Himself of His own free will to pay the ransom for your sins
and mine. Ask yourself if there is or has ever been anyone who
has loved you enough to suffer thus for you? To whom then does
your love belong? Christ bore the heavy chains to free us from
the galling chains of our passions and sins. He bore a prison
sentence that we might be freed from the eternal prison of hell.
He endured the spitting in his face to repair for the awful insults men
have offered, and do and will offer His eternal Father.
Go to your Christ in
His new
prison – the tabernacle – and beg pardon
for the insults you have heaped on Him by your sins. If you
condemn in your heart the foolish men who insulted our Lord during the
Passion, think how much worse your insults are since the soldiers were
pagans but you are a child of God and a follower of Christ.
Thursday
After the Passion:
THE
soldiers, tired from
making sport of the chained Christ, took some
rest, but the bruised, besmirched, disheveled, Savior stood in the
chill of the early dawn. As the sun was rising, the chief priests
the Scribes, and the whole Sanhedrin held a secret meeting.
Strange, isn’t it, how willing and easy men rise to do evil, while the
doing of good seems so irksome? The sacred writers do not relate
what took place at that meeting except to say that they “took counsel
together against Jesus in order to put Him to death” (Mt. 27:1).
The secret meeting
was soon
concluded and a public session was
instigated. Try to imagine the scene. See Christ in His
deplorable state being dragged into the large meeting room. See
Him meet every glance with a searching look. He was God, and, as
God, knew what had transpired at the secret session and He could read
too, the hearts of His enemies. Why would they bother to go
through the formalities of a second investigation, since, certainly,
they were not searching for the truth. They had already taken
“counsel together” against Him, “in order to put Him to death.”
It was because
Christ knew
their thoughts that He said in reply to the
question: “If thou art the Christ, tell us?” “If I tell
you, you will not believe me; and if I question you, you will not
answer me or let me go. But henceforth, the Son of Man will be
seated at the right hand of the power of God.” And they all
said: “Art thou, then, the Son of God?” He answered, “You
yourselves say that I am”; and they said: “What further need have
we of witness? For we have heard it ourselves from his own mouth”
(Lk. 22:66-71). “And they bound him and led him away, and
delivered him to Pontius Pilate the procurator” (Mt. 27: 2).
When Caiphas put
that loaded
question directly to Christ: “Tell
us, art thou the Christ?” Our Lord replied in kind.
Remembering what abuse He had suffered when that question had
been
asked for the first meeting of the Sanhedrin a few hours earlier, our
Lord said: “If I tell you, you will not believe me, and if I
question you, you will not answer me, or let me go.” Here the
Master was clearly referring to the prophecies of the Old Testament
regarding the Messias, which they, as scholars and teachers, were
supposed to know well, and which, if they would only open their eyes,
could see clearly were fulfilled and verified in Him. The high
priest and the Sanhedrin had but one single thought and that was not
the fulfillment of the prophecies but the destruction of Christ.
The merciful Christ in an endeavor to impress His enemies with the
salutatory fear of the consequences of their unjust action, added as He
did at His first trial – “you shall see the Son of Man sitting on the
right hand of the power of God,” alluding clearly to the final judgment
of all men, where true justice would prevail.
How often have we
not all
heard the Ten Commandments, listened to
sermons, read books, studied Christ’s counsels and with our hearts set
on sinning, closed our mind and conscience to the voice of God pleading
with us to keep His law. How often may some of us prayed half in
earnest to know our vocation, to which prayer Christ could say in
answer: :If I shall tell you, you will not believe me, and if I
question you, you will not answer me”?
Will you not go to
Christ in
His tabernacle today, and appease His
wounded heart for all the indignities heaped upon Him before Caiphas
and the Sanhedrin? Tell Him how ready you are to do His will in
all things.
Friday
After Passion Sunday:
THE
trials before the high
priest were over. Christ had been
found guilty of blasphemy because he said He was the son of God.
This, under Jewish law was punishable by death, but since this sentence
could not be carried out without the consent of the Romans, Christ
would have to appear before Pontius Pilate who was the Roman governor
or procurator at that time. When word of Christ’s condemnation
reached the unfortunate Judas, Scripture says: “He … repented and
brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the
elders, saying, ‘I have sinned in betraying innocent blood.’ But
they said, ‘What is that to us? See to it thyself.’ And he
flung the pieces of silver into the temple, and withdrew; and went away
and hanged himself with a halter” (Mt. 27: 3-5).
The story of Judas
presents
many reflections for each of us and not the
least ought to there is always an awful difference when we look at sin
before we do it and after we commit it. Before we commit sin, the
thing to be gained seems so attractive and the transgression that gains
it so trifling and insignificant. But, oh, after the sin is
committed, the tables are turned and the thing gained seems so
contemptible and the transgression so great. Thirty pieces of
silver - pitch them into the temple and get rid of them. The
thing that we win is cursed in our grasp. Take, for instance,
something we know to be in the violation of the commandments of God,
tempted to it by a momentary indulgence of some mere animal
impulse. How quickly it dies in its satisfaction. It lasts
but such a short time and then we are left alone with the thought of
the deed we have done. Most of our earthly aims are like that and
certainly all of our transgressions follow that formula. As the
silver Judas took to betray his God burned the palms of his hands until
he cast them from him like a viper that stung his hands, so does the
devil ever cheat the sinner of the substance for a shadow, and then
robs him of that, or changes it into a frightful specter from which he
would escape if he could.
Learn , to, that we
may
possess great privileges, make great profession
of faith, fill high office, and still have no real piety. Again
learn that there is a tremendous power in a guilty conscience to
inflict punishment. Finally, learn that remorse alone is
fruitless, but, if it leads to repentance and confession of sin born of
a sorrow for having offended God, we can hope to follow Peter’s example
rather than that of Judas.
Would to God Judas
had sought
out Mary, the Mother of Mercy as John had
done. How differently this tragic story might have ended!
Her counsels, her prayers, and intercession would doubtlessly have won
him a strengthening of hope. This very day, say a prayer to Our
Lady of Hope asking her to fill your soul with the virtue of hope so
essential to keep us from ever being swallowed up in the awful see of
despair.
Saturday
After Passion Sunday:
“NOW
Jesus stood before the
procurator; and the procurator asked him,
saying, ’Art thou the king of the Jews?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Thou
sayest it’ (Mt. 27: 11).
St. Matthew’s words
“Now
Jesus stood before the procurator” are
certainly stirring words, for they point up the fact that He who shall
judge the nations, Himself stands before Pontius Pilate to be
judged. Pilate has won a terrible pre-eminence among the sons of
Adam, for every child is taught to say that the Son of God “suffered under Pontius
Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried.”
It would be an error
to say
that all those who had anything to do with
the death of Christ were totally depraved. Certainly Pilate was
not in this class. He was actually a reluctant agent.
Pilate’s sin was not so much that he failed to recognize the
Messiasship of Christ, as rather that he condemned without evidence,
that he acted against his own convictions, that he was influenced by
the fear of man, that he had a sordid regard for place and power, which
all led him to the condemnation of an innocent Man, and in so doing, he
prostituted his office.
There is something
of Pilate
about all of us. Despite our avowals
that we are followers of Christ - Christians – do we not all too
frequently act against our convictions, and do we not fail to do the
upright and noble thing because we fear the mob or have a servile love
for human applause. Certainly we are other Pilates when we fear
to say we are Catholics; when we are afraid to bow our head or tip our
hat passing a church; when we are afraid to make the Sign of the Cross
before grace at meals; when we are afraid to refrain from eating
between meals during lent for fear of what others will think or say;
when we are too timid to walk away from a person who insists on telling
impure stories – these and a thousand other ways.
The sequel of
Pilate’s
history is affecting and instructive. The
thing he dreaded came to pass, for he lost the favor of the emperor and
died a suicide.
There is another
point in the
story that calls for our studied
attention. It was Pilate’s question: “Art Thou the king of
the Jews?”
Jesus did not look
like much
of a king as He stood there, His hands
bound, and a rope about His neck. Where was His power?
Where was His Throne, His crown, His scepter, His royal robes?
But to us today, how
different does it all appear! Christ is
throned, now far above all principality and power, and might and
dominion, as He sits at the right hand of His Father.
But what of Christ
in the
Holy Eucharist? He doesn’t look much
like a King in the tabernacles of our churches the world over.
Before we place too much blame on Pilate, let us look within our own
souls and we shall doubtlessly discover that we, like Pilate, have
somehow failed to realize the King of kings under the humble species of
bread and wine.
Before we do another
thing
today, let us each make an act of faith in
the Divine Presence of the King of kings in the Eucharist and beg that
this faith be increased so that from today on, we shall never fail to
visit Him daily – if even only for a moment. Beg, too, for the
courage to follow always the dictates of our conscience, and never to
compromise, no matter what the pressure, in matters of faith and morals.
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