Now is the darkest hour. Now is the time you must wait on God. The hour approaches when there the light will leave this world. The shadow descends on the Beloved as he cries out, ‘Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit,’ in submission to God’s will. He dies to consummate the redemption of the world. Be astonished in contemplation of this incomprehensible mystery that Life itself should die in order to deliver you from death and to impart to you eternal life. Consider on this day and in this hour, who hangs there dead before your eyes: The Word, the Wisdom, and the Son of the eternal God. He is crucified and dead for the love of each of us. Draw near to him now in spirit and wait at the foot of his Cross, as did his mother. Mourn in prayers of hope and love. Pour out yourself in acts of adoration, praise, and thanksgiving. Above all renew the promises of your heart to be his both in life and death now and forever.
King of the Jews
Consider how even at this time Our Lord begins to reign. The title that hangs over his head declares him to be the ‘King of the Jews,’ All nature proclaims him: the sun withdraws its light for the hours that he hangs upon the cross; at his death the whole earth trembles, and the veil of the Continue reading On Redemption: Meditation for Good Friday→
First Meditation: Lessons to be learned from Christ in his Passion
In the Passion of Christ, his submission to God’s will is no less admirable than his humility. We learn from his ministry about the place of this kind of submission as well as the place of humility in our lives. (Matt. 11:29) On the Cross, he taught these lessons too, being led like a sheep to the slaughter and not opening his mouth to protest. (Isaiah 53:7) Isaiah foretells for us how Christ will respond at the time of his death: The Lord God has opened my ear and I do not resist for I have given my body to the strikers, and my cheeks to them that plucked them; I have turned not away my face from them that rebuke me, and spit upon me.’ (Isaiah 50:5-6)
The Apostle Peter explains that we have been given these prophetic words as an example that we should follow. He tells us that when Jesus was reviled, he did not revile. When he suffered he threatened not, but delivered himself to those that judged him unjustly.’ (1 Pet. 2:21, 23) Let us learn from the Continue reading On Submission: Meditations for Lent Week 6→
First Meditation: On devotion to the Passion of Christ
Meditating on the sufferings and death of Jesus ought to be a principal part of the Christian’s devotion during the time of Lent, because the time is approaching when we commemorate the yearly memory of Christ’s passion. Therefore, we need to focus on the crucified Saviour and make him the object of our devotion. His passion is an ever-flowing source of mercy, grace, and salvation to us, since all that is good flows from his cross. The more we approach him in his sufferings and place ourselves near the cross through our meditations, the more plentifully we partake of that mercy and grace.
We see in the example of Judas that no state of life or calling, however holy, can secure us from danger. Was not this Apostle, called by Christ and schooled by him in the way of light? Was Judas not called from darkness like the other Apostles? Was not Judas witness to the casting out of demons and the working of miracles? Nevertheless, Judas fell so far from grace as to rise no more. Let anyone, who is sensible, realize on what slippery ground he or she stands in this life, because we are all potentially a Judas. This means that we should distrust ourselves and place all our confidence in God. We must work out our salvation, then, with fear and trembling for the seductions of this world are waiting for us, ready to lead us from God—and even like Judas into death.
But what was it that brought Judas to this evil state? It was the love of money. This he indulged in at first by the opportunity of carrying the common purse of the Apostles. Here he found temptation. Thus by degrees, he fell into evil, which took possession of his soul to the extent that Continue reading On Betrayal: Meditations for Lent Week 4→
It was on a fine spring day just as the strawberries were blossoming that Thomas-Jean Barracult took to his bed. He said that as he was now in his ninety-eighth year he had a right to rest. When the mayor came to visit him, Thomas-Jean announced that he intended to leave the village something of great value. Speculation swept over Banios like a sudden wind up from Africa, hot and impatient, turning this way and that in its excitement. Even Marcel Fontan who kept sheep in the Lacaze came down to find out what was happening. Gisèle de Saint Phalle spat out her cigaretto and said that, as Thomas-Jean had spent his entire life only milking two cows twice a day and had never been outside the village, he could hardly have a fortune. But she was wrong. While it was true that Thomas-Jean had lived all his life from selling the milk, he had made one trip outside the village and he was rich thanks to Stalin.
Long before Gisèle de Saint Phalle had been born, Thomas-Jean had attended the 1928 Communist Party Conference in Warsaw. When he came back, he would stand outside the church on Sundays and make speeches about Communism and the glory of the Red Revolution to anyone who would listen. After the first week, no one was interested. One Sunday a journalist from a national newspaper passed through the village on his way to mountain-climb and listened to Thomas-Jean. The result was an article headlined Is this the Nation’s Last Revolutionary? Someone of high rank in Russia, perhaps even Stalin himself, decided Thomas-Jean should be rewarded for his loyalty. So, for fifty years a small pension had arrived in cash, neatly tucked into a brown envelope with a Russian stamp. Thomas-Jean had never spent a penny of the money. He put it in a box in the loft above his cows.
Failure was not something the Devil was used to. He went into a pout for a week. This affected everything. The river flowed the wrong way again. The wind blew day and night and the Royal Eagle stayed in her nest. The village hens refused to lay eggs. Abbé Capdevielle got the worst case of indigestion he had ever experienced. Madame Labayle’s bread refused to rise for the first time in forty years and Gilles Moutel’s best boots were found in the pig’s pen. Everyone knew it was the work of the Devil. They stared down at the stones and did not dare whisper his name.
There is one thing even stronger in people than religion and churches, the Devil thought – Money! That precious commodity which men and women longed for, fought over, neglected each other to get, often killed to obtain. The desire for money gave everyone a desire for more of it. No one ever got enough. The poor wanted it. The rich wanted to be richer. The big stepped on the small. The world was made of money. Everyone knew that money was the root of all evil, but nobody cared. They just wanted more of it. “Money!” the Devil sang in a delighted voice: “Money! Oh! Money! Oh, Cash makes the world go round”!
He decided greed was what was needed in Banios. Greed could ruin anything and everything. It destroyed every virtue. It didn’t even need to be just money. It could be food or possessions or sex. But the best greed of all was for just plain, old-fashioned cash. No one ever got enough of it. So greed was what he would stir into his Banios broth. “Money! Money! Money!” he sang over and over. A sudden treasure was what was needed in Banios. He just knew it.
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