FROM

THE CENACLE

TO THE TOMB

A LENTEN COURSE

OF SIX SERMONS

ON THE

PASSION OF OUR LORD

By th«

REV. M. S. SMITH





FROM THE CENACLE

TO THE TOMB

A LENTEN COURSE OF

SIX SERMONS

ON THE

at 0nv Horlr

B Y THE

Rev. M. S. Smith

NEW YORK

JOSEPH F. WAGNER (Inc.)



MiljU (SHralat

ARTHUR J. SCANLAN, S. T. D.

Censor Librorum

Imprimatur

JOSEPH MOONEY. V.G.

Administrator
,
New York

New York, February 1, 1919

Copyright, 1919. by Joseph F. Wagner, New York

Printed in the United States of America



CONTENTS

PAGE

I. Gethsemane. The Agony i

II. Christ in the Hall of the High Priest;

The Condemnation 8

III. Christ Before Pilate; The Trial 16

IV. The Apostles During The Passion 25

The Desertion; The Betrayal; The Denial

V. Mary’s Participation in The Passion 34

VI. The Crucifixion 43



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FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

I. Gethsemane—The Agony.*)

“Oh, all ye that pass by, attend and see if there be any sorrow like unto my

sorrow.”—Lam., i, ii.

SYNOPSIS.—The Passion. Its cause—Love. Sin gave the occasion, but
love it was that brought God to earth and nailed Him to the Cross.

See the proof of that love in the Garden
—
“My soul is sorrowful even

unto death,” “Could you not watch one hour with Me,” “Father, if it be

Possible,” etc., yet love triumphs, “not My will but Thine be done.”

The bloody sweat, the mob led by one of His own. “Whom seek ye,”
"I am He,” “Let these go their way,” and when He permits, they bind
Him and as a malefactor lead Him to t,*e hall of the High Priest.

To anyone who gives even the most casual thought to the various

devotions or rather forms of devotion as practiced in the Church,

there is one fact that must be apparent, viz., that in these forms of

devotion she fulfills the wants, spiritual and physical, of man even

as she satisfies the aspirations of his heart. Nay, she goes down

into the depths of the human heart and understanding that for

which it yearns, raises it up to the object of devotion, thus adding

supernatural value to the natural impulses of heart and mind, and

even to the actions of the body. Whether directing the mind to

God as Father and Creator—as Son and Redeemer—as Holy Ghost
as Sanctifier, or bidding it dwell as far as possible on the Triune

God, or whether showing the relationship between God and man,

and in that what has been done for man and what is expected in

return, it is then she becomes satisfying and to man a true solace.

When, however, she brings, as it were, our God down to us, she

becomes most satisfying. What heart is not grateful for Mary, a

creature like unto ourselves in all but sin, yet one exalted not only

* In writing these sermons “From the Cenacle to the Tomb,” the author
has made special use of that admirable work, “The Watches of the Passion,”
by Rev. P. Galwey, S.J.
For the Sixth Sermon, “Mary’s Participation in the Passion”, “The Foot

of the Cross”, by Father Faber, gave not only inspiration but much assistance.



z FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

for her own sake but for ours, who can and who will aid us. What

consolation to think of the saints, creatures of earth, who met the

same obstacles, encountered the same difficulties and fought the

same battles that we must meet, encounter and fight, whose ex-

ample will encourage us and upon whose intercession we may rely

for aid in the conflict.

But if these devotions are a source of consolation, who will

fathom the depth of merit flowing from those pertaining to the

sacred humanity of our Divine Lord, His infancy, Oh the sweetness

of Bethlehem, His secret life with Joseph and Mary: “He went

down with them to Nazareth and was subject to them”
;
His public

life, He went about doing good, “and as a teacher” no one ever

spoke as He, for He spoke as one having authority. Who may tell

of the gratitude that should be ours for that grand devotion in our

day established and so widely propagated, the devotion to His

Sacred Heart. Wonderful indeed are these, yet they but lead us

to the very font of sanctity, the Blessed Eucharist, wherein He is

not only our spiritual food, but wherein, in the august sacrifice of

the Mass, we are perpetually reminded of the price paid for our

redemption. “This do in remembrance of Me” was His almost last

request and should find a hearty response in the heart of every child

of Holy Church; for no form of devotion can be more pleasing to

God or prolific of grace than that which leads us to contemplate His

passion and death. Here we learn what sin really is, since it de-

manded such a satisfaction; “redeemed,” says the Apostle, “not by

gold and precious stones, but by the Blood of the Son of man”;

here, too, learn the love of God for man in understanding how

willingly the sacrifice was made: “I have a baptism with which I

am to be baptized and now I am constrained until it be accom-

plished.”

Of the efficacy of this devotion no one may doubt, for even as

our Lord Himself requested we find it practiced by his saints, and

though this or that saint may be said to be the patron of this or that

pious practice, we find all devoted to the Passion and the book,

from which they learned those deep sentiments of piety that have

thrilled the children of Church throughout all ages was the book of

the Cross. To the crucifix they led their followers when they would

teach them the enormity, the malice, the ingratitude of sin, while

there too they bade them learn the love of God; for that bleeding

portrait of charity is the type of the one, while it is the proof of



GETHSEMANE—THE AGONY 3

the other. Reason itself tells the efficacy of this devotion, for what

heart is so hard as not to be affected when it remembers that all

this was borne for man, aye for sinful man. Who then will doubt

the utility, nay the very necessity, of devotion to the Passion? Re-

member Me, His dying request, and “as often as you eat of this

bread and drink of this chalice, you shall show the death of the

Lord until He shall come/
J

says St. Paul. For His sake, then, and

above all for our own sake, should we meditate on His sufferings,

for here will we not only learn the love of God for us, but here will

we learn to love God. Love begets love says the axiom, and there

is only one reason why our hearts are not burning with love for

God, and that is “because there is no man who considereth in his

heart/’ because we do not as we should bring before our minds the

proofs of love that He has to the world given.

And yet how shall we meditate on the Passion ? What mind can

conceive, what tongue tell of His sufferings? His was a life of

humiliation so deep, of suffering so acute, that had we not the

assurance of Holy Writ, we could scarcely believe that the one could

be endured, the other borne, and were we to meditate for all time we

could not fathom the one nor understand the other. We, it is true,

can in a measure realize the torture of body that was His, but who

tell of the agony of mind? Not only during the Passion, but from

the time He offered Himself to the offended Father as the victim

of sin, did He suffer and was He humiliated. St. Paul gives us an

idea of the humiliation when he says: “who being in the form of

God thought it no robbery to be equal to God; but He humbled

Himself, debased Himself, taking the form of a servant being

made the likeness of man, and in shape formed as man. He hum-

bled Himself, becoming obedient unto death, even unto the death

of the Cross.” Behold the depth of His humiliation, and even as

that was complete, so complete were His sufferings. No torture of

body, no agony of mind that He did not endure. He was the vic-

tim of sin, and as man by sin prostituted every gift of body and

mind, so in reparation would He suffer bodily and mentally all that

could be endured.

The sacrifice was made, it would be complete, the demands of

eternal justice would be satisfied and the just anger of the offended

Father appeased. With all its cruelty, however, the Passion is a

history of love, throughout its whole ordeal we find love in its

every phase.



4 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

Hearken to the words of love as He enters that Upper Chamber

:

“With desire have I desired to eat this Pasch with you before that

I die,” hence we truly say, though sin gave the occasion, love was

the cause. While dwelling on that love we must ever remember

that the Passion was a reality. Knowing He was God, we may be

tempted to think He did not feel the pains as would an ordinary

man. He felt them more keenly, for His Body, uncontaminated by

sin, was far more sensitive than would be the body of an ordinary

man.

With this thought in mind we can understand the agony of the

scourging, the torture of the piercing of the crown of thorns, the

pain endured in the nailing to the Cross, and the three hours of

agony while hanging on the Cross
;
but who may tell of the suffer-

ing that was His when He cried out “my soul is sorrowful even

unto death,” when so great a flood of sorrow entered His soul that

by right He should have died, and had not Divine power inter-

vened death would have been His portion.

Go then, in spirit, into the garden and witness that sorrow of

soul. Twelve sat with Him at the table, eleven only go with Him

to the Garden of Olives, yet wonder not, the twelfth will soon ap-

pear. Would that this part of the history might not be written

but it must be told as it is, alas ! too true.

As the Gospel narrative relates, after instituting the Blessed

Sacrament, He speaks to the twelve in manner most loving: “I

have chosen you as My Apostles, and love is to be the badge of

your apostleship. I will not leave you orphans. Ask in My name,

have every confidence in Me, for the Father loves you because you

have loved Me and believed in Me.”

Since leaving the Cenacle He speaks not, and His followers, filled

with awe at what they have seen and heard, walk with Him in

silence. He enters the Garden, bids the eight remain at the en-

trance, while with Peter, James and John He retires a little and

’neath the shelter of a rock pours forth His soul in prayer. With

Him these three had been on Tabor and had heard the words of

the Father : “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.”

Now He would have them witness His agony. Yet not in its

entirety, for they are but mortals and as yet have not been strength-

ened by the indwelling of the Holy Ghost. From them he retires

a few paces into the shadows, about a stone’s throw, says Holy

Writ, and casting Himself on the ground pours forth His soul in



GETHSEMANE—THE AGONY 5

prayer. They hear His mournful sighs and see Him prostrate on

the earth but, filled with fear, dare not approach to lend the sym-

pathy of their presence. “He began to be fearful, to be heavy

with sorrow.” Why this fear? Because He was man. Bossuet says:

“He was so completely God that it was scarcely possible to believe

that He was man, and, on the other hand, so completely man that

it was scarcely possible to believe that He was God.” As man He

underwent this agony, and as man He prayed to the Father to let

the chalice pass by; even as God-Man He made the sacrifice and

accepted the chalice. He is filled with fear at the approach of

death with its attendant torture, with sorrow at the sight of sin,

sin past, sin present, and sin to come, and cries out: “if it be pos-

sible,” but “not My will but Thine be done,” even though the death

be terrible, even though the sacrifice for so many will be in vain.

In one moment He endures all that He will on the morrow suffer,

and that wrings from His heart the cry “if it be possible.” It was

not, however, this vision of suffering that caused Him to cry out,

but the fact that He was now the victim of sin.

The concupiscence of the flesh with its train of evils, its thoughts

and desires, its horde of impurities cries out : lie prostrate, Oh spot-

less Lamb, that we may pass over Thee. The concupiscence of the

eye with its retinue of followers, its thefts, frauds and all manner of

injustices cries out “prostrate, Oh Thou of eternal justice that we

ride over Thee.” The pride of life with its consequences, its angers,

revenges and vanities cries out: “grovel in the earth Oh ye of im-

maculate life that we may walk over Thee.” Wonder not then at

His cry, He who could stand before His enemies and ask : “which

of you can convince Me of sin?” Wonder not that, now its victim,

He asks that the chalice may pass by.

Again, in that awful moment there pass before Him, in pro-

cession, the souls of the damned, from the first that enters hell

until the last that shall hear that terrible sentence: “Depart from

Me, ye cursed, into everlasting flames,” and, viewing that almost

countless number, He turns to the Eternal Father and says : “Father

I am willing, anxious to die for man, but behold the number for

whom the sacrifice will be in vain, nay, for whom it will be a con-

demnation, for they shall trample upon My Blood and thus accom-
plish their ruin. Why, then, the sacrifice? if it be possible, but char-

ity triumphs; not My will, but Thine be done.” Truly does St.
Paul say obedient unto death, even the Death of the Cross.



6 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

He seeks His friends, and finds them sleeping. “Could you not

watch one hour with me?” he says, not in anger but as one seeking

sympathy, and adds, to excuse their poor human nature, “the spirit

is willing but the flesh is weak.”

Again He returns to pray, and now asks not that the chalice pass

by, but makes subjection to the will of the Father. “If this chalice

may not pass by, Thy will be done.” To send away the chalice

would be to close the gates of mercy to those who will profit, and,

though the number neither profiting nor accepting will be great, He

bows in humble submission.

Once more He returns to the sleeping three, and again, with heart

grown weary and halting steps, He resumes His prayer. This time

He kneels not but prostrates Himself and stretches forth His Hand,

takes the chalice and places it to His lips. The sacrifice is made,

but in making it nature becomes convulsive, and trembling in agony

of soul He groans in spirit, while from every pour of His immacu-

late Body drops of bloody sweat fall to the ground. Every pore

becomes as it were an eye to weep, not tears of salt, but of blood,

to weep for the sins of mankind. Conjure up, oh Christian soul,

if you can, the agony of mind that would produce such a phenom-

enon of nature!

The midnight hour is approaching, with an effort He composes

His spirit, awakes the three and with the others goes to the entrance

of the Garden, where he is met by a mob led by one of His dis-

ciples. One of the twelve, one who had been an intimate com-

panion, one to whom had been revealed the secrets spoken to the

people in parables, now comes to greet his Master, and in greeting

to betray Him. “Whom I shall kiss, hold ye Him,” says Judas to

the rabble. With this sign of friendship is Jesus met and given

over to His enemies. How Jesus pleads for the heart of Judas:

“Friend, dost thou betray the Son of Man with a kiss?” even yet

greeted as a friend. Not too late, Oh Judas, but the appeal falls on

a hardened heart. True, a short time afterwards remorse enters

the soul of the betrayer, yet not from proper motives, even though

he casts the burning blood money into the faces of his tempters and

in despair hangs himself. Willing are we to deprecate this unfor-

tunate disciple, but would it not be well for us to scrutinize our

own souls lest we too perhaps have betrayed Him? This we have

done when, after receiving Holy Communion, we have committed



GETHSEMANE—THE AGONY 7

grievous sin, this they have done who have ever unfortunately

received unworthily.

The chalice has been accepted, but before giving Himself over to

His enemies He will give an evidence of His power. At the en-

trance to the Garden He calmly asks: “whom seek ye?” and when

they answer: “Jesus of Nazareth,” He answers: “I am He.” Then

a remarkable fact is recorded. He speaks but three simple words,

speaks not in anger, yet behold the effects of His words. In con-

sternation they fall back and dare not approach Him, much less

lay hands upon Him. “I am He.” I am the God of your fathers,

the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I am the Creator and

Ruler of the universe. I am the God of life and death, and you

seek Me, not as a creature should seek his Creator, not as man

should seek his God, yet “I am He.” In fear and consternation

they fall back and dare not lay hands on Him. What, Oh Christian

soul, will be the effect when that same Jesus speaks on judgment

day?

Impulsive Peter is bidden sheath the sword. “Could I not ask the

Father and would He not send legions of angels to protect Me?”

He touches the wounded ear and it is miraculously healed. Will

not this manifestation of power have some effect on those who came

to apprehend Him? He has made the offering, has accepted the

chalice and now gives Himself over to His enemies. He asks, how-

ever, that His followers be permitted to go their way and allows

Himself to be bound and, as a malefactor, led to the house of the

high priest. Seeing Him thus led on to trial, the Apostles all leav-

ing Him, fled, while the midnight moon looks down upon this the

first stage in the Passion of our and its Lord and Creator.

Will not the rocks, will not the olive trees of Gethsemane protest

against this outrage by man, the noblest creature of God? “Pie is

offered because He wills,” and thus Omnipotence is bound, and

Innocence led forth to trial.

If ever, Oh Christian soul, tempted to doubt the love of God, go

in spirit to the Garden and gaze on your prostrate Saviour. Be-

hold the ground saturated with His Blood, listen to Plis cry for

sympathy, hearken as He bows to the will of the Father, and then,

if you can, doubt His love for man. Remember too that all was

brought on by sin; not merely the sin of the world, but our sins,

and, remembering this, cast yourself down beside your prostrate



8 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

Jesus, mingle your tears of sorrow with His tears of blood, and

from the depths of a contrite heart say: Mercy, my Jesus, mercy.

II. Christ in the Hall of the High Priest; the Con-

demnation.

"And they brought Jesus to the High Priest; and all the Priests and the

Scribes and the Ancients were assembled together.”—Luke, xvi, 53.

SYNOPSIS.-^-Bound, Jesus is led to the House of the High Priest, first to

Annas then to Caiphas.

Annas was High Priest in reality but that year had been deposed by

the Authorities at Rome. Was still held in respect by the people, who,
though outwardly recognising Rome, inwardly, especially in matters

regarding religion, resented Rome's interference. Annas zvas glad to

find Jesus in his power, and pleased to see Him thus humiliated.
Caiphas, son-in-law of Annas, acting High Priest, was weak and domi-

nated by Annas, who was well versed in the Law, while both feared
and had hatred for Christ who often found it necessary to rebuke them,

even though He called upon the people to recognise their office. Caiphas
had already passed judgment, "It is expedient that one should die that

the nation might live.”

Midnight council, they feared the people. All members of the San-

hedrim were not present.

Condemning Him even though the witnesses did not agree in their
testimony, they handed Him over to their followers, who throughout
the night mocked and reviled Him.

In the morning the judgment passed in the midnight session was

reaffirmed
,
and, spitting in His face, they said, "He is guilty of death.”

They lead Him to Pilate to have sentence of death, which they cannot
pass, pronounced against Him.

In our former meditation on the Passion, we saw the necessity

of keeping two ideas in view, if we would dwell with profit on all

that was done that man might be redeemed, viz., that the sufferings

were real, nay, that they caused Plim more pain than the same

ordeal would bring to an ordinary man
;
and that love was the cause,

the love of God for man.

We heard the sigh from His sorrow-laden Heart as He entered
the Garden. “My soul is sorrowful even unto death,” harkened to

the appeal to the Father, as He arose from the ground saturated

with the drops a bloody sweat that poured from His Body: “If it

be possible, let this chalice pass by,” listened with awe to the trium-

phant voice of charity as He added, “Not My will, but Thine be
done,” and hearing and seeing this, could only marvel at the bound-

less love of God, that love of which the poet sang:



CHRIST BEFORE THE HIGH PRIEST; THE CONDEMNATION 9

“Could you with ink the ocean fill

Were the whole world a parchment made.

And every single stick a quill;
And every man a scribe by trade,

To write the love of God
Would drain the ocean dry,

Nor would the scroll contain the whole

If stretched from sky to sky.”

Thus far we have not been brought to contemplate any physical

suffering. In the first stage of the Passion, in Gethsemane, unseen

spirits alone afflict His soul. He is now about to give Himself over

to men that they too may inflict suffering on Him.

Before, however, going farther we might ask: was the Passion

necessary? Could not the world have been redeemed without this

excess of suffering? In His infinite mercy, God could have con-

doned the sin of man. If, however, reparation were demanded,

man of himself could never have made it. Nay, should all man-

kind submit to all the torments that could be afflicted on man, aye

even endure these sufferings for all time, such suffering and

such endurance would not atone for even the slightest sin; for sin

is an offence against God, and in its offensiveness partakes, in as

far as an act of man can partake, the nature of infinitude. If satis-

faction then be demanded, he who satisfies must have in his nature

an equality with the one offended, and by whom satisfaction is

demanded.

In the economy, then, of salvation, of redemption, the Incarna-

tion became necessary, and this, in the case of fallen human nature

was a humiliation; but was it necessary that Christ should suffer

so much? He was God, God-Incarnate, hence one drop of His

Blood, one sigh from His Heart, one tear from His Eye would

have been sufficient to redeem not only the world but a thousand

worlds, for that drop of blood, that tear, that sigh would have been

of infinite value in the sight of the offended Father. Why then the
excess? Simply on account of love. “What was sufficient to re-

deem the world,” says St. Augustine, “was not sufficient to show

His love for man, hence He poured out His whole Heart's Blood,

and when the spear entered His side there came forth blood and

water; first blood then water, to show the world that the last drop

had been shed for the redemption of man.”

The Passion, however, means more than the mere shedding of

His blood and His death on the Cross
;
for, as we saw in our first

meditation, the sacrifice was complete, most cruel, and offered in



10 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

the mo9t ignominious manner, and its very excess fills with hope

the mind of man, while it should inflame the heart with love to that

God who has done so much to show His love for us.

With the bound Jesus, then, in spirit we will enter the hall of the

High Priest. But first listen to the words with which He addresses

the mob : “Are you come out as it were against a thief with swords

and clubs ? When I was daily with you in the Temple you did not

stretch forth your hand against Me—but this is your time and the
power of darkness. You did not apprehend Me when in the Tem-

ple or Synogogue I taught as no man before Me taught; you did

not molest Me when I went about doing good; when I made the

blind to see, the dumb to talk, the lame to walk and the deaf to

hear; you did not arise against Me when I raised my hand and all

manner of sickness gave way before My power
;
when I even went

down into the grave and brought back the dead to life. You had

no thought of binding Me when, in the desert, I fed the multitude,

then you had no power over Me, and even now you would have no

power did not the Father and I permit, ‘but this is your hour.’
”

To Annas they lead Him, for though deposed by Rome he was

High Priest in reality, and as such was secretly considered by the

Jewish people, though, as the Scripture says, Caiphas was acting

High Priest that year. We must remember that while outwardly
submitting to the yoke of Rome, inwardly the people resented the

workings of the governing power, and, especially in religious mat-

ters, endeavored to conform to their own institutions. Hence to

Annas they bring the captive Jesus. Annas was crafty, cruel and

cunning. He was well versed in the law and on account of his

learning, as well as from the fact that he was by right the man of

office, really lost nothing of prestige in the estimation of the people

in being deposed.

Caiphas was weak and vacillating, and, though nominally in

power, depended on the stronger-willed Annas, his father-in-law,

in matters brought before him for adjudication. He, it appears,

was not naturally of a vicious mind, and had he not been influenced

by others might have passed judgment according to the facts pro-

duced, not permitting his sense of right to be overcome by hatred

or desires of revenge. Being wholly under the influence of his

father-in-law, and so weak in nature as to be easily led and dom-

inated by the other members of the Sanhedrim, and, when in council

he learned how they were opposed to Jesus, to gain their favor,



CHRIST BEFORE THE HIGH PRIEST; THE CONDEMNATION 111

said : “It is expedient that one should die that the nation may live,”

and did not know, as Scripture says, that he was uttering words of

prophetic import. While we condemn the puerile weakness of

Caiphas, on him nevertheless the odium of the deicide must be

placed. On the judgment seat with Caiphas, when sentence was

passed, were five others, all his creatures or relatives, and all, like

himself, dominated by the stronger will of Annas, even as they were

ruled by his superior learning.

Of them our Lord spoke in no uncertain terms, calling them a

generation of vipers and warning the people against their manner

of living, though bidding them listen to their teachings as ttiey on

account of their offices were, though most unworthy, the represen-

tatives of God.

The Sanhedrim, once so powerful, no longer recognized by the

ruling government, still met in secret council and sighed in vain

for the coming of the promised One, who, as they fondly hoped,

would place their nation in the high station it once enjoyed among

the countries of the world. When He came, bom in obscurity and

reared in poverty, they refused to receive Him, and would neither

credit the miracles with which He proved His power, nor accept

the doctrine by Him taught, though compelled to say that He spoke

as one having authority.

They led Him first to Annas, and though he has no power to act

in the case, yet is he gratified in seeing Jesus bound and in his

power. He it was that promised the thirty pieces of silver to Judas

and doubtless the betrayer insisted on the Captive being brought to

the house of Annas in order that he might receive the promised

reward. What took place in the house of Annas has not been de-

finitely related, yet we can rest assured that many questions were

put to the captive Jesus. Having satisfied the morbid curiosity of

Annas, they lead Him to Caiphas, the acting High Priest, for he has

the right to question, the power to act. With Caiphas and his asso-

ciates in this midnight council, we find the leaders of the Scribes,

the Pharisees, and others, who, though differing in many things, are

united in their desire to bring about the death of Jesus. Why the
midnight council? Because they feared the people, who believed

in Him and revered Him as one who went about doing good, and

had the session been called during the day they might force them-

selves into the hall and by their presence compel his self-constituted

judges pass judgment according to the testimony adduced. All the



12 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

members of the Sanhedrim were not here, for some, like Joseph and

Nicodemus, believed in Him and would not concur in their vicious

designs.

Entering this court we find everything seemingly according to

the rules laid down for this most solemn function. This is the

supreme tribunal. Upon the judgment seat we see the High Priest

in his full robes of office. Around him in a semicircle, on chairs a

little lower than the dais on which he sits, are the members of the

Sanhedrim. The flitting light from lamps hanging from the ceiling

throws both light and shadows over the hall, while the wrinkled

countenances of the sitting judges, brought into strong relief by

their flowing beards of snowy white, present a vision of ominous

gloom bespeaking nothing of justice or mercy. True, the law says

“no trial shall be held at night, neither shall a culprit be summoned

after the evening sacrifice nor on the eve of festal day.” Behold

the morrow will be the Paschal day, the sun has set and the fires of

evening sacrifice have been quenched, yet must the ruin of this

Galilean be accomplished, though every law and sacred custom be

set at naught.

Before this assemblage appears the handcuffed Jesus. Calmly

He stands before them, even though full well He knows that in this

corrupt court neither mercy or justice will be granted Him. Why

look for either, is not the presiding judge the same who has already

adjudicated, the one who has passed sentence, passed it when he

said : “it is expedient that one should die that the nation may live,”

and the one of whom he then spoke now stands before him awaiting

sentence ? He stands there as a malefactor, it is true, but did ever

prisoner, by his very appearance, give such evident proof of inno-

cence? In the dim light of the lamps we see a man of peerless

beauty, pale, it is true, yet not in the least disturbed. Tom and dis-

ordered are his garments, disfigured with dust His countenance,

bound as a criminal, yet His very appearance proclaims His inno-

cence, and there is about Him a dignity that for a time perturbs

His accusers and strikes them dumb.

With an effort the High Priest throws off the spell that the pres-

ence of the fettered Jesus cast upon Himself and his satellites and

proceeds to question Him. Ardently does he long for a cause against

Jesus, yet in his heart he recognizes that neither in His actions nor

His sayings, neither in His life, public or private, can anything be

legitimately brought against Him. Understanding, however, that



CHRIST BEFORE THE HIGH PRIEST; THE CONDEMNATION 13

some accusation must be brought, he asks about His disciples and

also asks regarding His doctrine. What answer can the Captive

make to the first question? Where are the disciples? Some are

hiding in the shadows of the olive trees in the Garden, no doubt,

while others have sought refuge among friends or acquaintances.

“All leaving Him have fled.” By Him they were chosen, with Him

they had spent three years, three years of the most sublime novice-

ship ever granted creature of earth; and behold the result: they

have left Him to face His accusers alone. Unwilling to condemn

them in this public court, not wishing to find fault with them, even

though He might be justified in complaining of their desertion, He

remains silent.

To the question, however, regarding His doctrine, He answers:

“I have spoken openly to the world. I have taught in the Synagogue

and have spoken in the Temple, whither all the Jews resort. From

the mountain side have I proclaimed the truths of the Father, for

they are My doctrines, and in secret have I spoken nothing. Why

asketh thou Me, ask those who have heard what I have spoken, be-

hold they know the truths that I have taught.” What need of this

man making known the doctrines proclaimed by Him, why make any

defense of them? His creed is fully known, for it has been in public

proclaimed. “And you, Oh High Priest, did you but understand the

duties of your office; did you but recognize the obligations under

which you are bound to look after and guard the teachings of God,

and watch over His people lest false teachings be disseminated

among them, you would ere this have taken cognizance of My
teachings, examined My doctrines, and scrutinized My life

;
and had

you done so, you would know that in all things I taught what was

of God and in all acts did work that could come only from God.

My teachings have been spread broadcast over the land
;
My actions

have been performed in the broad, open light of the day. With Me
there has been no secrecy; nothing have I done under cover of

darkness, for I have nothing in common with the father of dark-

ness or of the beings who work in secret. Go ask those who have

heard Me. Question, ask, and see if there be even one who will

dare assert that I ever uttered aught that needs an explanation or

demands an apology much less calls for retraction. Search and find,

if you can, anyone who will truthfully say that I ever taught any-

thing contrary to the Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of

man. If I am to stand at your tribunal as a false teacher, it is not



14 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB m

for Me to make defense. Let those who have heard Me come forth

and from them you may learn the purport of My doctrines.” Look-
ing not only at High Priest but at the assembled members of the

Sanhedrim, he speaks in a tone both firm and dignified. A painful
silence follows these words. The old priest is amazed and amaze-

ment gives way to embarrassment. The meek and humble man

does not, it is true, absolutely defy him, yet the relationship of

accuser and accused seems to change and for a time it seems as

though the designs of the midnight council will come to naught.

The situation is changed in a manner that seems almost incred-

ible. One of the servants of the High Priest gave Jesus a blow on

the face, saying: “Answerest thou the High Priest so? Will the

court permit this outrage to go unpunished ?” Who thus strikes the
prisoner? One authority says it was Malchus, whose severed ear

Jesus a short time before cured. Surely a grateful return for the

miraculous cure; others say it was one of the followers of the

court, who a short time before was sent to apprehend Jesus, and

who, on his return, said: “I could not lay hands upon Him, for

never did man speak as this man speaks; He speaks as one having

authority,” and now, to regain the favor then lost, strikes Him and

covers the insult with apparent solicitude for the honor due the

High Priest. When Achab stretched forth his hand to save the Ark

from falling, he was stricken because he dared touch that which

was sacred to the priests. Does the hand wither which struck

Jesus? Is the man rebuked? Will hot any court assure protection

to even the most depraved brought before it? Here the outrage

goes unpunished, the perpetrator unrebuked, while Jesus calmly

says: “If I have spoken evil give testimony of the evil; but if well,

why strikest thou Me ?”

Witnesses are brought, but unfortunately they, in their eagerness

to convict, forgot one important factor. The witnesses did not

agree among themselves as to the nature of the accusations they

would bring against Him, and the testimony of the one contradicted

that of the other. “Their evidence was not agreeing,” says the

record of the trial. In silence Jesus stands before them, and His

calm demeanor irritates the High Priest, who irritably asks : “An-

swerest Thou nothing to all this?” and then determining to make

Him speak, says: “I adjure you by the living God that Thou tell us

if Thou be the Christ, the Son of the living God,” and tradition



CHRIST BEFORE THE HIGH PRIEST; THE CONDEMNATION 15

says fie added: “blessed be His name.” Jesus answers: “Thou hast

said it,” or, according to St. Mark, Jesus said, “I am.”

To the accusations of the others He makes no response; why

does He not speak? Because He recognizes the right of the High

Priest to put that question, acknowledges his station and recognizes

his authority. It is as though he would say to His questioner : “You,

Oh High Priest of Israel, you who sit upon the chair of Moses, have

the right to put that question, and when it is couched in such sol-

emn terms as to adjure Me in the name of God, the query must not

remain unanswered
;
and I say to you, ‘hereafter you will see the

Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Father and coming in

the clouds of Heaven.’
”

Hearing this, Caiphas, seemingly overcome with righteous indig-

nation, rends his garments, saying: “He blasphemeth; what need

have we of further witnesses, what think you?” And all passing

before Him they did spit in His face and with one accord said : “He

is guilty of death.” According to commentators of the Talmud, the

custom of spitting in the face of one condemned was in vogue, and

in this case it was carried out, for the Scripture says, “they did spit

in His face.”

“What need of further testimony?” asks the corrupt judge. What

testimony has been produced, did not one contradict the other? Is

it solicitude for the honor of God that make the High Priest rend

his garments? Nay, rather is it solicitude for revenge. Often

were those in authority rebuked by Jesus for the lives of scandal,

and now that the opportunity for retaliation presents itself we can

feel sure they will make use of the occasion.

Condemned in the midnight court, they hand Him over to their

satellites, to be brought forth again in the morning. During the

remaining hours of the night He is subjected to all manner of

insults and compelled to endure all kinds of humiliations. He is a

fit object for sport of the underlings of the High Priest, for He is

one condemned to death.

Recalling that He stood before the people as a Teacher, they

mock Him, for now He has been deposed. Remembering that He

proclaimed to be not merely a special messenger sent from on high,

but asserted that He was the Son of God, that He was thus the

Promised One, they blindfold Him, and striking Him, say:

“Prophesy who it was that struck Thee.” Every manner of con-

tumely that their ignorant minds can conjure up is brought into



16 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

play and thus pass the remaining hours of the night. During all

He never opens His lips, either to complain of their treatment or

to ask for mercy.

In the morning He is once more brought before the Sanhedrim,

for they would outwardly observe the provisions of the law, and

again is the question put to Him: “Art Thou the Christ?” He

answered: “You will not believe Me, and, if I shall also ask you,

you will not answer Me nor will you let Me go.” And they said:

“Art Thou then the Son of God?” And He said: “I am.” Once

more the judge says : “You have heard Him blaspheme, what need

of further,testimony?” and the sentence passed at midnight is rati-

fied, He is guilty of death.

Listen, Christian soul, to the sentence passed, but condemn not

His judges, revile not the false witnesses; but conscious of the fact

that you too have borne testimony against Him, that you too have

passed sentence, go to Him now and with contrite heart say: My

Jesus judged, my Jesus condemned, my Jesus who will one day be

my Judge, have mercy, mercy, Jesus.

III. Christ Before Pilate; the Trial.

“And the whole multitude of them rose up, and led Him to Pilate.”—St.
Luke, xxiii, 1.

SYNOPSIS.—Having condemned Jesus, the High Priest and his associates
find themselves in a quandary. Not having the power of life and death,
they appeal to the Roman Governor to have the sentence put into execu-
tion.

For a time justice seems to prevail, and the Governor, caring not for
their religious convictions, refuses to pass a sentence manifestly unjust.

To extricate himself from the predicament, he tries various ruses,
such as sending Him to Herod, asking that Barabhas be put in His place
and finally scourging Him.

Four times He is brought before the Governor, and, though pro-
claiming “that he finds no cause in Him” in the end, fearing the dis-
pleasure of Caesar, with which they threaten him, the vacillating Judge,

washing his hands as a token of his innocence of the manifest crime

about to be perpetrated “delivered Him unto them to be crucified.”

In the midnight conclave, as we saw in our last meditation, the

sentence of death was passed, the judgment spoken, and in the

morning session the same has been ratified. The enemies of Jesus

now find themselves in a new and embarrassing position. With one

accord they have proclaimed Him deserving of death
;
but how can



CHRIST BEFORE PILATE; THE TRIAL 17

the sentence be carried out? Though unwilling to acknowledge it

they are now under the dominion of Rome, and, without the sanc-

tion and approval of the hated Roman Governor, they cannot put

into execution the sentence by their leaders passed. If they bring

Him to the Roman Tribunal, it will be an acknowledgment of their

subjugation. If they refuse to do this, they must perforce permit

Him to go free, and this will prove that in persecuting Him they

were prompted by any but proper and religious motives. They

swallow pride of Nation and bow down in submission to Imperial

Rome, and thus show how man, when inflamed by passion, forgets

honor, and when urged on by vice loses self-respect.

What think you, said Caiphas; and answering they said, He is

worthy of death. Shall we then hand the accused over to the proper

authority, to Rome, that the sentence may be executed? Will it

not suffice to send Him, bound as He is, to the Roman court ? Nay,

that will not suffice; what cares Pilate for the judgment passed by

us? We will not send Him, but will bring Him: High priests,
ancients, members of the Sanhedrim, all will go and perhaps our

numbers will compel the Roman to bow to our wishes.

In the early morning they bring out the accused, and, recognizing

the weakness of their cause, “the whole multitude of them rising

up, led Him to Pilate, hoping that the multitude will prevail, where

the case, left to itself, must fail.” “They lead Him to the Hall but

will not enter lest they be defiled, but that they might eat the

Pasch,” says the narrative. What hypocrisy. Desirous of per-

petrating a manifest act of injustice, yet behold their apparent

anxiety of observing the letter of the law. Wonder not that Jesus

spoke of them as hypocrites.

If we read carefully the record of the Gospels, we will find that

Jesus actually appeared four times before Pilate. The first time

Pilate acquitted Him, saying: “I find no cause in Him; take Him

and judge Him according to your own law.” The second time he

also proclaims Him innocent, yet sends Him to Herod to be tried.

The third time, when Herod sends Him back, he says : “They have

brought Him here through hatred. I will scourge Him and let

Him go.” And when He stands before the Governor the fourth

time, scourged and crowned with thorns, Pilate, threatened with

the displeasure of Caesar, still protesting both by word of mouth

and by the washing of his hands, condemns Him to death.

The Governor knows full well that in the mob he has few if any



18 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

well wishers or friends, and can well understand that their hatred of

the Man must be extreme when it leads them to come to the Hall

at this unseemly hour that sentence may be pronounced. There

stands Annas, the priest by him deposed
;
there, too, is Caiphas, and

with him the leaders, both spiritual and civic, of the people, and

doubtless among the crowd are relatives or friends of those slain a

short time before by his soldiers in the Temple. He had heard too

much concerning this new Prophet, had heard of His doctrine, in

many things new not only to the Gentiles but even to the Jews; had

heard of his wonderful works, had heard also of the hatred with

which the rulers, especially within the past year, had persecuted

this new Teacher
;
for, as Governor of the province, it was his duty

to take cognizance of all these matters, hence is hardly surprised at

the early morning meeting.

Standing at the entrance of the judgment hall, he raises his hand

as a command that they should cease their clamoring, and when

silence reigns, calmly asks, “What accusation do you make against

this Man?” Surprised at the question, for a moment they are

silent, and then, with one acclaim, cry out, “If He were not a male-

factor we would not have delivered Him up to thee.” No idea had

they that the Procurator would delay over the preliminaries of a

trial; they thought he would, without question, approve of the

verdict by them rendered, and legalize the sentence by this court

passed. Shall they tell that this Man has blasphemed? What

cares he for the subtleties of their religion?

“You bring this Man before me, you clamor for His death, and

most anxious indeed must you be that sentence be pronounced, as

you are here, not only in such numbers, but so early in the morn-

ing. Before I pass sentence, I must know of what He has been

accused. True, I stand before you as the representative of Rome,

and, as the power of Rome is to-day recognized throughout the

world as supreme, so too is my power in this territory supreme, yet

I will not, I can not use that power arbitrarily
;
hence, before pass-

ing sentence, especially the sentence you demand, I must know, not

only of what the prisoner has been accused, but whether or not the

accusation has been proved against Him. Tell me, then, what

custom has this Man disregarded, what statute broken or what law

violated.” What answer will they make? Shall they speak of the

proceedings in the midnight council? The witnesses did not agree

in their testimony. In frenzy they cry out, “If He were not a



CHRIST BEFORE PILATE ; THE TRIAL 19

malefactor, we would not have brought Him to thee. What evi-

dence do you require? Do you not see before you the leaders of

the nation; is it not sufficient that they demand His death
?”

“Take

Him, then,” said Pilate, “and judge Him according to your own

law,” seemingly a gracious condescension, in reality a veiled sneer

and ill-concealed cut at their dependence on Rome. “It is not law-

ful, as you well know, for us to put anyone to death,” say the dis-

comfited rulers. What a prostitution of justice. No accusation

being brought forth, is it not the duty of the Judge to dismiss the

case? Yet, behold, he says, “I cannot convict; take Him and judge

Him according to your law; perhaps you may be able to convict

Him.”

Then they all began to accuse Him, saying, “We have found Him

perverting our nation; have heard Him saying it is not lawful to

give tribute to Caesar; nay, we have heard Him say that He is the

Christ, the King.” Their accusations are general, their charges

indefinite, and even in support of these no proof is brought forth.

Then Pilate leads Jesus into the Hall, and asks, “Art Thou the

King of the Jews?” Jesus answers, “Sayest thou this of thyself,

or told it to thee of Me?” Notice the question : Pilate, unconscious-

ly pays tribute to the Man, for he does not ask if He is a pretender

as the Jews say, but Art Thou King of the Jews? Looking at the

Man, the Judge feels that here there is no room for pretension, no

place for pride, hence no pretension but a reality. Hence the query,

“Art Thou King of the Jews?” Indignant at the question put by

Jesus, Pilate angrily answers, “Am I a Jew?” He resents the im-

putation as an insult, and then, to justify himself, asks, “What hast

Thou done, Thy own people have given Thee up? Why are they

arraigned against Thee?” “My Kingdom is not of this world,” says

Jesus, and, becoming more mystified, Pilate says, “Art Thou, then,

a King?” “For this was I born,” replies Jesus, “to give testimony

of* the truth.” “What is truth?” says the Judge, but without wait-

ing for an answer he goes to the waiting mob and boldly declares,

“I find no cause in Him.” Was Pilate desirous of learning what

truth is ? Like many to-day he asks the question, but waits not for

the answer
;
seeks it not where it may be found.

When the Judge proclaims that he finds no cause they are aston-

ished, and, in a frenzy, cry out: “He stirreth up the people, teach-

ing throughout all Judea, beginning from Galilee to this place.”

“What,” says Pilate, “is this man a Galilean? Then it is the duty



20 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

of Herod to try Him, for he is Tetrarch of Galilee, and glad am I

in being thus released from the necessity of granting what you

unjustly demand. To Herod then He shall go, even though find-

ing no cause in Him I know I should set Him free.”

They lead Him to Herod, and Herod was glad. Glad because of

the recognition of the haughty Roman with whom he was at enmity

because of a dispute regarding the boundaries of their respective

territories, and he had to give way to the more powerful ruler.

Glad was Herod, too, because he had heard much of this new

Teacher, of His miracles and works, and now congratulates him-

self at having Jesus in his power, for, he says, doubtless He, to

justify Himself, will give some evidence of His miracle working.

Herod questions Him in many words. “I have heard much of

you in the past few years, of your changing water into wine at

Cana, of your curing all kinds of disease, even leprosy, of your

even going down in to the grave and bringing the dead back to life;

now if you will give me a proof of your wonderful power, per-

form even a little miracle for me, I shall set you free.” With

these and kindred questions we can imagine Herod trying to in-

gratiate himself into the good graces of the Man before him.

To all Jesus answers nothing. No mark of disdain greater than

to treat with silent contempt the efforts of one who by flattery

would gain the good will of another. Keenly feeling this, Herod

would turn the ridicule from himself, hence he says: “Why was

this Man sent to me
;
if not an impostor, he is evidently a fool, and

with Him I will not waste my time. Put on Him the insignia of a

fool, lead Him back to Pilate that he who began the inquiry may

finish it.” Oh, Infinite Wisdom, is there any other degradation to

which you may be compelled to submit? For the pride that caused

the angel’s fall you have now atoned.

Again He stands before Pilate, who has said he found no cause,

who has sent Him to another Judge, a Jew by the way, who too

was compelled to acknowledge His innocence, even though he chose

to mark Him as a fool; what action will the Roman now take? To

condemn, he knows, is most unjust, to set Him free is to court the

threatened disfavor of Caesar. What, then, will Pilate do? Ah,

he thinks, I see a way out of the dilemma. On this festal day I

have a privilege of granting freedom to anyone imprisoned. Surely

they will not hesitate between this Man and the one I will propose

for release. He speaks to them of the custom and asks: “Whom



CHRIST BEFORE PILATE; THE TRIAL 21

shall I release, this Man of Barabbas?” You all know of Barabbas,

of his record, how to many other crimes he has added that of mur-

der. "‘Whom shall I release, Barabbas or Jesus, who is called

Christ.” To his astonishment they clamor for the release of Bar-

abbas. Again thwarted, Pilate seeks another means of escape.

Recognizing that it is on account of hatred that he cannot under-

stand that they seek the death of Jesus, he thinks they will be satis-

fied if they see Him severely punished
;
hence suys, “I will chastise

Him and they will let Him go.” Then Pilate took Jesus and

scourged Him. According to Roman law all criminals condemned

to crucifixion were scourged. In this official scourging the stripes

must not exceed forty, less one perish under them. But the scourg-

ing of which St. John speaks was not official, for Jesus had not as

yet been condemned, hence the number of stripes may be reckoned

only by the wish of the soldiers wielding the lash. In ordering this

scourging, Pilate was prompted by a sense of humanity, for he rea-

soned that seeing Him thus punished they would be satisfied and

would not clamor for His death. This was one ordeal of the Pas-

sion revealed to the Apostles when a short time before He said : “We

go up to Jerusalem and the Son of Man shall be betrayed. He shall

be mocked, spat upon, He shall be scourged and crucified.” We have
witnessed the betrayal, the mockery in the Hall of the high priest

and greater mockery awaits Him. Now go into the yard of Pilate

and view the scourging. We can imagine Pilate saying to the leader
of the cohort : “You see the perplexing question that confronts me.

I know this Man is innocent, yet listen as they cry out that He must

be crucified : take Him then and chastise Him, not to death, but so

thoroughly that their anger will be appeased, their hatred satisfied.”

Listen to the swish of the lash as, wielded by the brawny arms of

the soldiers, it whirls through the air, and hear the sickening sound

as it cuts into the tender flesh of the Immaculate Jesus. Pair

after pair they take their places and vent their rage on Him as

with Body bent He is lashed to the pillar. They marvel at His

endurance and seem enraged at not being able to force a cry for

pity from His lips or to cause Him to wilt or succumb from pain.

Compelled at last to cease from very weariness they look with

astonishment upon the lacerated, bleeding victim.

Of what crime has this Man be6n accused, says one of the sol-

diers, for surely if the punishment be proportioned according to

the crime committed, His must have been most heinous? Have



22 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

you not heard? says another. This Man has proclaimed Himself

a king. A king, forsooth, says a third, if king, then He should be
decked with royal robes. Purple is the insignia of royalty; bring

hither, then, the purple gown and place it upon His shoulders. No

king, says a fourth, should be without a crown. Here is a diadem;

it is not of virgin gold, nor does it glisten and scintilate with pre-

cious stones, yet it is a sign of royalty, a sign befitting this Man

who would be a king. “And they plaited a crown of thorns and

placed it upon His head.” Is this all the paraphernalia of a king?

No, the scepter, the wand of authority should be in his hand. “They

put a reed in His right hand and bowing down in mockery they

saluted Him : hail, King of the Jews, and taking the reed they struck

Him on the head, and they spat upon Him.”

Oh all ye holy Angels and Archangels
;
ye Thrones and Powers

;

ye Dominations and Principalities
;
ye Virtues

;
ye Cherubim and

Seraphim; oh all ye Heavenly Court, come and gaze upon your

King! Come, and bowing down, adore, not in mockery; salute,

not in derision; cry out to the Heavens, proclaim to the earth

—

behold your King! King, not in regal splendor, but King of Love;

for not even in His Kingdom of eternal glory will He give to man

such a proof of love as is given here on His throne of mockery and

under His garment of derision.

Clothed thus as a mock king, Pilate leads Him forth, and to the

waiting mob says: “Ecce Homo,” behold the Man! Imagine the

scene. The mob anxiously waiting in the court called Lithostrotos.

With voice hushed or breaking out only in rumbling murmurings

they await the Judge and the Accused. The leaders circling among

them speak here and there to assembled groups, cautioning them

to be on the alert, for they still fear the power of this Man. The

Judge, they say, vacillates, hence you must demand that the penalty

be death, and with nothing less be satisfied.

“Behold the Man,” says Pilate. “You have brought this Man to

me for trial. I find no cause in Him. You have brought many

accusations against Him, these I have examined and your charges

remain unproved. But, even if He had been guilty of all you allege,

behold the Man
;
has He not suffered enough ?” Well have the chief

priests performed their work. No voice is raised in sympathy, no

tongue cries: hold, enough, but from every side the cry: Crucify

Him, crucify Him.

“Ecce Homo ” behold the Man ! Behold the Sacred Head crowned



CHRIST BEFORE PILATE; THE TRIAL 23

with thorns, you, Oh child of the Church; behold that Face fur-

rowed by the lash, those half-closed Eyes whence tears flow, tears

begotten, not merely of physical suffering, but brought out by the

sins of mankind; behold those pallid Lips, the gasping Cheek, the

bound Hands, Hands that were never raised but to call down a

blessing on earth; behold this picture of sorrow, of humiliation, a

picture that naturally should be repulsive, yet is not so, for over

it there shines a majesty, which, like a ray of sunlight on a wreck,

not only fills the heart with hope but should inflame the soul of

every man with love. Will it not conquer every heart?

Hearing the repeated cry for vengeance, Pilate becomes enraged,

and says : “Take Him, you, and crucify Him, for I find no cause in

Him.” And when they answer: “We have a law and according to

that law He should die, because He calls Himself the Son of God,”

the Procurator becomes more mystified and is filled with fear.

Turning to Jesus after entering the Hall, he says: “Whence art

Thou?” Angered at receiving no reply, he says: “Speakest Thou

not to me, knowest Thou not that I have power to release Thee as

I have power to crucify Thee?” To this Jesus answers: “Thou

shouldst not have power against Me unless it were given thee from

above, and he that hath delivered Me to thee hath the greater sin.”

More mystified than ever, Pilate now determines to release Him.

Standing at the entrance of the Hall he is about to speak, when the

rabble cries out: “If thou release this Man, thou art no friend of

Caesar’s: for whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh against

Caesar,” and at this he is filled with fear.

Almost worn out, on one side urged by duty, on the other haunted

by fear, he leads Jesus to the door of the Hall and says: “Behold

your King.” A wave of angry passion, a tumult of hatred seems
to pass over the mob, and as with one voice they cry out: “Away

with Him, crucify Him, crucify Him.” “What,” says the Judge,

“shall I crucify your King?” This seems to stupify the rabble and

they are silent until the circulating priests urge them to exclaim:

“We will have no King but Caesar, as to this Man, away with Him,

crucify Him.” Oh inconstant people, a few days before they greeted

Him with Hosannahs, calling Him blessed as He came in the name

of David, now their blessings are turned to- cursings, and their

Hosannahs to crucify Him, crucify Him. Then He was hailed as

of the kingly line of David, now they will have no king but Caesar.

Then Pilate, poor, weak, inconsistent Judge, seeing he prevailed



24 FROM fHE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

nothing, taking water, washed his hands, saying : “I am innocent of

the Blood of this just Man, look you to it,” while they, not con-

tent with calling down the wrath of God upon themselves, wish to

leave it as a legacy to their children, cry out: “His blood be upon

us and upon our children.” No other nation so stamped in infamy,

never before or since such madness recorded in history.

Judas, Caiphas, Annas and others had their share in the con-

demning, but without Pilate they could not have led Christ out to

Calvary, hence, in our first written Creed, which we daily repeat

as a cherished prayer, we profess our belief in Jesus Christ, the

only Son of God—Who suffered under Pontius Pilate.
Wash your hands as you will, weak, vacillating Judge, for, “as

you delivered Him up to them to be crucified,” the stain of an un-

justly rendered sentence will not out. You endeavored, it is true,

to escape the ignominy of sentencing Him, but that endeavor lessens

not your guilt, nay, rather makes it the more heinous inasmuch as

it proves that you acted against your most certain conviction, aye,

knowledge of His innocence.

Let us not remain content with condemning this Judge, let us

rather remember that we too have often brought Jesus before the

bar of justice and there condemned Him, there passed sentence

against Him. This we have done as often as we have mortally

sinned. In sorrow go to Him now, not as accusers, not as judges,

but as accused, as those who are to be judged, and say to Him: My

Jesus tried, my Jesus condemned, my Jesus led out to death, my

Jesus who will be my Judge, aye, my Jesus truly my King, have

mercy, mercy, Jesus.



THE APOSTLES DURING THE PASSION 25

IV. The Apostles During the Passion ; the Desertion ; the

Betrayal
;
the Denial.

“Then the disciples all leaving Him, fled.”—Matt., xxvi, 56.
“And Jesus said to him: Judas doest thou betray the Son of Man with a

kiss?”—Luke, xxii, 48.
“Again therefore Peter denied; and immediately the cock crew.”—John,

xx, 27.

SYNOPSIS.—With Our Divine Lord, we have been in the Garden, and
meditated on the agony of spirit that was His: we followed Him into
the house of the High Priest, and there heard the words of condemna-

tion; we heard the vacillating Judge, moved by fear of Caesar, pronounce

the sentence of death; we witnessed the mockery, the scourging, the

crowning with thorns, and other scenes of humiliation and suffering, and

now ask: is there any other species of suffering to which He may be
subjected? Enough has been done to satisfy for the sins of man, but,

to fully understand the Passion, we must bring before our minds other

scenes enacted and other sources of suffering brought home to Him.

His enemies afflicted Him, His friends brought sorrow to Him and
caused Him to suffer.

An injury by an enemy inflicted may be hard to bear, but to suf-

fer at the hands of a friend is almost more than man can endure.

We saw the sufferings brought to Jesus by unseen spirits in the
Garden; we contemplated the pains borne and the humiliations

brought to Him by men, His enemies; let us now consider the

actions of His chosen friends, His Apostles, in this His time of

visitation, and learn how even through them He was made to suffer.

“The Apostles all leaving Him, fled,” says the narrative, and

humiliating though this confession, by one of themselves, may be,

satisfied would we be did the record of the twelve end here. But

first we may be permitted to ask: who were these men that had

been chosen from amongst men, to be His intimate companions in

the days of His public life, and who were to carry to the end of the

world the fruits of His work? Were they men who either by ex-

alted virtue, deep learning, or heroic piety, showed themselves so

superior to others as to merit this exalted station? Were they men,

who, in the judgment of the world, would be looked upon as by

nature fitted for this wonderful undertaking? Decidedly no. On

the contrary, judged from a human standpoint they not only did not

have, but actually lacked the qualifications the world would demand

as necessary for the carrying out of such a stupendous work.

From what men call the lower walks of life they came, being, as

they say themselves, poor fishermen, while one at least, to become



26 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

a disciple, left a calling which was looked upon, at least, with sus-

picion.

Grand indeed their vocation “you have not chosen Me, but I have

chosen you,” wonderful their novitiate, three years in intimate con-

verse with Jesus, “to you it is given to know the secrets of Heaven,

to others in parable,” inexhaustible the love lavished on them, a love

so absorbing that never, while He was with them, did they manifest

the least solicitude for themselves or their own affairs. “To whom

shall we go, Thou hast the words of eternal life,” yet they wavered,

they fell, fell even when danger threatened them not. “I am He,”

let these go their way, and even though the severing of the ear of

Malchus might have called attention to them, the mob that came to

apprehend Him scarcely regarded them. They fell when love and

loyalty should have brought them forward
;
fell after being warned,

fell after repeated protestations of fealty, aye, fell just after receiv-

ing their first Holy Communion, as fell the highest angel, as fell the

first man, and in their fall gave to us a proof of the frailty of man

and his utter dependence on God. While that fall was deep, while

its contemplation, in a sense, may be humiliating, it should not be

without its practical value to all mankind
;
for it should teach man

that in depending upon himself he depends upon a frail reed, and

that his trust and confidence must come from the helping grace of

God. “Without Me,” says Christ, “you can do nothing.” Remem-

ber, too, that though many graces had been showered down upon

the Apostles, they had not as yet experienced the salutary effects

of Pentecost.

Had the desertion of the disciples been the only fact to be re-

corded regarding them, it alone would be sufficient to show the

sorrow brought by them on the Master, but besides this, two' of

them are destined to add to His sorrow and to bring greater grief

to His already overburdened soul. One betrayed Him, and this,

humanly speaking, is the most melancholy episode in the Passion.

We can understand the hatred of the leaders of the Jews for Him.

They would not acknowledge Him because of His humble birth, and

they were filled with envy because the people followed Him; but

that one so intimate with Him as was Judas should turn against

Him seems almost incredible; yet a moment’s consideration will

show that his fall could be the only sequence of his life. Judas

carried the purse, and, scanty though it was, it begot in him the

spirit of avarice, and this led to his fall.



THE APOSTLES DURING THE PASSION 27

Herein we see the manner in which Satan accomplishes the ruin

of a soul. A pure soul is never asked to commit a mortal sin, that

would be startling. First he brings to the soul a coldness in spiritual

things, then a spirit of lethargy in matters of devotion, to which is

added a feeling of nausea in prayer, followed by neglect and a grad-

ual turning from things of God to those of the world. Now comes

trust in self, less reliance on grace ; but even yet the horror of mortal

sin is found in the heart. Defects are followed by lighter transgres-

sions, these by venial sins, and then is verified the saying of the

Holy Ghost : he that condemneth small things shall fall by little and

little, for the inevitable end is mortal sin. But Oh how that first

mortal sin disturbs the soul. No peace, no rest until reconciled;

but in too many cases, and unless special grace is sought, the temp-

ter finds his second entry into the soul more easy than the first, and

his subsequent attacks meet with lessening vigor until, in the end,

the unhappy mortal seems in greatest security while really in gravest

danger, for the act repeated becomes customary, this begets habit,

and habit formed becomes second nature, and thus the ruin of the

soul is certain unless, indeed, wonderful grace is received.

Judas had lost faith in the Master. What his ideas were when

he joined the band we of course cannot determine, yet is seems al-

most certain that he was led more by the thought of earthly prefer-

ment than by the hope of eternal reward. Others, as we learn from

the sacred writings, had the same idea. When our Lord performed

some wonderful miracle, or when the populace showed Him any

special honor, the faith of Judas grew stronger, but when seeming

reverses came that faith wavered and the unfortunate disciple

doubted.

When, in the Synagogue of Capharnaum, the day after the feed-

gin of the multitude with the few loaves and fishes, the promise of

the feeding of the world with the Body and Blood of the Son of

Man was made, some of those who walked with Him, we are told,

refused to receive this promise and*walked with Him no more.

Others, doubting, some regarding the promise, namely as to whether

it was to be taken literally or not, some not, perhaps, understanding

its full import, and trusting to time for this understanding, remained

members of the band.

Peter, when in answer to the question, “shall you also go?” he

said : “to whom shall &e go, Thou, Lord, hast the words of eternal
life,” may indeed have intended speaking for the twelve, but, while



28 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

he thus expressed the convictions of the others, we feel assured he

could not vouch for the faith of Judas, who remains, it is true, yet

murmuring, doubting, nay, not believing. This is the opinion of

all who have written concerning this unfortunate Apostle. Why

does he still follow Jesus? Because though he has lost faith in Him

as the promised One, he still recognizes His power and fondly hopes

that this power will be used not only for the Master Himself, but

for those associated with Him. The spirit of avarice now dominates

him. Listen as he complains when the Magdalen anoints Jesus:

“Why the waste, could not this balm be sold and the proceeds given

to the poor?” Not, says St. John that he cared for the poor, but

because he held the purse.

“What will you give me if I deliver Him up to you,” he says to

the High Priest
;
and Annas, though even while making the bargain

despising him, offers the paltry sum of thirty pieces of silver, thirty

sheckles, the price of a slave.

How the Sacred Heart of our Lord yearned to save Judas. At

that Last Supper He endeavors to move the heart of the disciple.

In sorrow rather than in anger He says : “One of you shall betray

Me.” This terrible secret He now reveals for the first time, and in

the course of the banquet He speaks of it three times, and in His

speaking pleads, begs Judas to put his trust in Him and even yet

all will be well. Hearing Him say that one of them would betray

Him, they are filled with wonder, and in sorrow one other asks:

“Is it I, Lord?”

We can almost hear the impetuous Peter exclaim: “One of us?

We know, Master, that having all knowledge, to You the secrets of
the heart are like unto the pages of an open book, but surely here

there must be some mistake; for how could anyone, knowing You

as we know You, be so base to betray You?” Then knowing the

weakness of human nature, the same Peter anxiously cries out: “Is

it I, Lord?” and adds, “save me from such an abomination.”

Even yet unwilling to expose the traitor, Jesus merely says : “He

that dippeth his hand with Me into the dish, but woe to him by

whom the Son of man is betrayed, it were better for him had he not

been born.” Woe to him, not now
;
for even yet he may draw back,

even yet I look upon him as friend, but woe to him if he persist.

Will not this reading of the secrets of his heart affect Judas ? The

warnings are unheeded, and the sorrow that afflicts the Heart of the

Master has no effect on Judas.



THE APOSTLES DURING THE PASSION 29

All are now troubled, and John leaning on the bosom of His

Lord at a sign from Peter asks: “Who is it?” No longer may the

secret be kept. “He to whom I shall reach the dipped bread.” And

with the morsel Satan entered the heart of Judas, and he went out

after hearing the words “that which thou hast to do, do quickly,”

but of the others none knew to what these words referred.

Judas leaves the Cenacle to meet the Master at the Garden gate.

The sign is given “whom I shall kiss,” and knowing the power of

that Master, he adds, “hold you Him,” for doubtless the unfor-

tunate disciple is filled with fear as to what may happen to those

who dare lay hands upon Him and to himself who is to prove false.

In a voice trembling both with fear and emotion he salutes Jesus:

“Hail Rabbi,” and fain would free himself after implanting the

traitorous kiss on the Cheek of the Master, but Jesus, holding him

in loving embrace, will not notice the treachery, softly whispers:

“Poor friend, why art thou come? Judas, doest thou betray the Son

of man with a kiss ?” Still friend, yet the heart will not melt. The

money is earned, but follow Judas and learn the fate it brings

him. He follows Jesus to the Hall of the High Priest. His faith in

Jesus as a teacher and leader has been lost, but he still remembers

His wonderful power and no doubt fondly hopes he will by it free

himself from the clutches of his enemies. Hearing the sentence of

condemnation he is filled with consternation, yet consoles himself

with the thought that if Jesus will but make use of the power that

is evidently His, He can easily escape from His enemies. Anxiously

then he waits for the end, and seeing Him led out in the morning to

be brought to the Roman Governor that the condemnation may be

ratified and sentence of death pronounced, he gives way to despair.

Hurrying to the Hall of the High Priest, he says: “What have I

done, I have sinned—take back your blood money, for I have sinned
in betraying innocent blood. You may proclaim Him guilty, the

Roman may sentence Him as one that is guilty; but I say that He

is innocent. Am I not capable of testifying—have I not been with
Him during all his time as a public teacher—yea, with Him in most
intimate companionship, and I say, and wish to say it with all the

emphasis of which I am capable, He is innocent.” To this appeal,

an appeal that evidently springs from the heart, the cringing priest

simply says : “Look you to it. His innocence or guilt is nothing to

us, all we wish is to have Him removed, and that we will accom-
plish.” Then, in despair, Judas hanged himself.



30 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

Poor Judas, scorned by his tempters he is now and will be for all

time an object of scorn for all men, yet he gave the most mag-

nificent testimony of the innocence of His Master, while his bold

defiance, in throwing the bribe in the face of the corrupt priest,

and declaring “I have sinned in betraying innocent Blood,” is a

proof to the world that Jesus was unjustly condemned. Did he truly

repent? Yes, he repented his act, yet his was not the soulful sorrow

that asks forgiveness for the crime because it was a sin in the

sight of God. In the eyes of the world, at least, the crime of Judas

was less detestable than that of those who lured him on, and then

laughed in scorn at his remorse. As to his fate eternally
;
ours not

to judge, ours to take warning, ours to live in wholesome fear lest

we too abuse grace, as grace was evidently by him abused.

Great was the anguish brought to Jesus by the treachery of Judas,

but far greater, far more intense the grief caused by one other of

His chosen band
;
by none other than Peter, the leader of that band,

who not only denied Him, but confirmed his threefold denial with

an oath. At the very moment when our Lord was appealing to the

testimony of His own in saying to the High Priest : “Go ask those

who heard Me preach,” Peter, the chief of His Apostles, said to

the inquiring maid : “I know Him not.”

The fall of Judas was gradual, not so the sin of Peter. When

bidden by the Master in the Garden to sheath his sword like the

others, Peter became terrified, and deserting Jesus, fled. He evi-

dently did not leave the Garden, for the Scripture says, that as Jesus

was led bound to the Hall of the High Priest “Peter followed Him

afar off,” as did another, who, though not named, is believed to have

been St. John, by whom the fact, together with what afterward

occurred, is recorded. They go to the Hall where one, being known,

is permitted to enter, while the other is refused. He that was known

obtains the coveted permission for the entrance of the other, and, in

view of what took place, can we not believe that John regretted the

favor thus obtained for Peter?

Scarcely has Peter entered the portals when he is met by a ser-

vant with the question : “Art not thou one of this Man’s disciples ?”

to which, without a moment’s hesitation, seemingly without reflec-

tion, he answers : “I am not.” He goes to the fire where others are

sitting, where another maid, looking at him, says to those present

:

“This man was also with Him.” Again he replies: “I neither

know nor understand what thou sayest.” He enters into conversa-



THE APOSTLES DURING THE PASSION 31

tion with those at the fire, and one says : “Surely thou art one of

them, for thou art a Galilean for thy speech does betray thee.”

And a bystander said : “I saw you with Him in the Garden,” and

this man was a relative of Malchus, whose ear was severed by Peter.

Then Peter began to curse and to swear that he knew Him not.

We understand from the Sacred Writings that before Pentecost

Peter was most impulsive. What a proof of this we have in what

took place at Cesarea Philippi towards the end of the second year

of our Lord’s public life. To the twelve who had often mingled

with their fellowmen, Jesus said: “Whom do men say that I am?”
and they all began to tell what they had heard men say of him.

“Some say you are Elias returned to earth
;
others claim that you are

John the Baptist risen from the grave, while others say you are a

great Prophet.” Without hesitation they tell the different opinions

that they have heard expressed concerning Him. When, however.

He asks: “Whom do you say I am, you who have been so inti-

mately associated with Me, I would have your opinion of My per-

sonality?” they in embarrassment are silent until Peter boldly steps

forward and says: “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living

God.” The first public profession of faith in the Divinity of Christ

made by man ! What opinion the others had formed we know not

;

but Peter left no doubt as to his belief. Hear him, a few days later,

rebuke Jesus when told of what would take place at Jerusalem.

Who but one governed by impulse would have cast himself into the

lake when he saw the Master walking upon the waters ? Listen as

He speaks on Tabor, where James and John dare not raise their

voice. “It is good for us to be here, etc.” Hearken to His protes-

tation when told that all shall be scandalized in Him and shall

desert Him. He resents the imputation. There may be some doubt

he seems to say as to how the others may act, but as for me, I will

follow Thee even unto the death.

Such the protestation, how different the action! He hastily an-

swers the inquisitive maid, passes through the gate, but in passing

denies his Master. No need to give answer, he could have ignored

the question or at least could have turned back and not entered the

Hall, but he wished to know the end, and no doubt imagined he

will not be farther molested, hence goes to the fire and there is com-

pelled to deny a second time. Having satisfied the curiosity of

those two servants he feels secure and enters into conversation with

those about the fire. He likely asks them what they think will be



32 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

the outcome of the trial taking place in the next room. Being fol-

lowers of the High Priest, they may be able to give an idea as to the

verdict that will be rendered. In his anxiety he speaks freely, and

in his excitement his speech tells of the place whence he came. Be-

hold proof of the fact that he must be a follower, he is from Gal-

ilee, and to this is added the testimony of one who not only saw him

in Gethsemane, but who is deeply interested in him inasmuch as a

kinsman suffered from his impetuosity. In the face of all this mere

denial will be of no avail, hence Peter confirms his denial with an

oath. While his vehement denial is being considered by those about

him, the warning voice a second time is sounded, and hearing the

cock crow, Peter recalls the words of Jesus: “Before the cock

crows twice, you shall deny Me thrice,” and his soul is flooded with

horror at his fall. Just then the door between the two rooms is

thrown open, and those in the outer chamber hear the verdict : “He

is guilty of death.” Peter, with those about him, turns his eyes to-

ward the open door, and there stands the Master. He looks at

Peter, and Oh the depth of meaning in that look. Eye meets eye,

only a glance, but Oh the reproach in that passing glance. A re-
proach, yet one of infinite tenderness, the sin must be rebuked, but in

that rebuke there is a something that will not harden the heart ox

Peter from fear, but will rather cause it to melt with tender sorrow

for the pain the denial has given this most loving Master. Oh the

eloquence of that one glance, the superabundance of grace in it

contained, and it was not lost on the disciple. The crowing of the

cock was not heeded, but the vision of his Lord bound as a criminal

and the glance of tender reproach are not lost on the disciple.

“Peter,” that look seems to say, “what is this I hear, ‘You know Him

not.’ Peter, it is I. Recall the words you spoke at Cesarea Philippi,

you, the first of the children of man, proclaimed your faith in Me.

Remember what took place on Tabor. From the clouds you heard

the voice of the Eternal Father : ‘This is my beloved Son in whom I

am well pleased, hear ye Him.’ It is I, Peter, who explained for you

the secrets of the Kingdom of Heaven; I who only a few hours ago

fed you with My Body and gave you to drink My Blood, and yet

you say: ‘I know Him not,’ you swear ‘You know not the Man.’”

The heart of Peter melts in tenderness, and filled with true contri-

tion “he went out and wept bitterly.” We hear not of him again
until he with John goes to the Tomb to verify the story of Mag-

dalen that the Body is not there. Shall we censure the Apostles?



THE APOSTLES DURING THE PASSION 33

Rather let us remember that we too have deserted and betrayed and

denied, for all these things have we done when we committed sin.

Conscious then of our adding to His sufferings let us in sorrow

approach Him and ask two things, strength to serve faithfully, and

consciousness of our frailty, for it was the want of this last that

caused the fall of the Apostles
;
being warned, they did not ask for

strength, but depended on self and failed.

Yes, they failed, and their failure taught them as it should teach

us that with diffidence in self we must have trust and confidence in

God. They recognized their failure and for it made amends, first

by true and heartfelt sorrow and then by giving themselves without

reserve to the work for which they were destined when chosen to

be His Apostles. The Scripture says of Peter that “he went out

and wept” for his sin, and his contemporaries tell us that he never

forgot that he had fallen, and that the tears by him shed wore fur-

rows down his cheeks. To him first of all the risen Lord appeared,

thus assuring him that his denial had been forgiven. May not thiy

evidence of weakness have been permitted, then, to be for His rep-

resentatives a constant reminder of poor human nature and that

they, when called upon to exercise their prerogative of judging in

the Tribunal of Penanc, should temper justice with mercy?

While thus looking on the fall of the Apostles as a constant warn-

ing, let us commiserate our Suffering Saviour in the sorrow brought

Him by His friends, and, that we may prove to be His friends not

only in times of peace and happiness, but in times of trial and ad-

versity, let our never-ceasing prayer be: My Jesus, my God, my

Love—my Jesus by sin betrayed, by sin denied, through sin de-
serted, have mercy, Jesus mercy!



34 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

V. Mary's Participation in the Passion

“Now there stood by the Cross of Jesus, His Mother.”—John, xlx, 25.

SYNOPSIS.—While it is true that "The Passion" refers only to the suffer-
ing and Death of Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ; and while man
was redeemed, as St. Paul says, “With the Blood of Christ,” yet, to

understand thoroughly this Divine Tragedy, we are logically brought

to consider the sorrows of the Mother even as we meditate upon the

sufferings of the Son.

Mary, it is true, did not contribute directly to the redemption of man.

Indirectly, however, she participated in the Passion for she furnished

the victim, and, in seeing her enveloped in a cloud of sorrow, His mental

sufferings were increased. As Father Faber tersely puts it, “She suffered
in Him and He suffered in her.”

That the Church wishes us to consider her sorrows even as we con-
template His sufferings, is evident from the fact that twice during the

year, she celebrates feasts of the Sorrows of Mary, on the Friday of
Passion Week and on the 15th of September. Our reason also bids us
dwell on the sorrows of Mary as a means of bringing us the better to
appreciate the sufferings of Mary’s Son; for, while we may not be able
te enter, as we would wish, into the excess of suffering of the God-
Man, we can assuredly, not only fully understand but appreciate the
sorrows of the mother, a creature like unto ourselves in all but sin.

We have been with our Lord, in spirit, from the Cenacle to the
Hall of Pilate, and, in our limited way, have contemplated the suf-

ferings that have been visited upon Him
;
torture of body and agony

of mind, and now will dwell on another phase of the Divine tragedy,

a human phase, if you will, viz., Mary’s participation in the Passion.

Throughout the whole ordeal we have seen love and suffering con-

tending; the one that it may shine the more brightly, the other that

it may draw men the more securely. The suffering was acute, the

disfigurement brought on by it appalling, and the humiliation be-

gotten of it most deep
;
yet the love of which it was the offspring

shone out so brightly that it effaced the humiliation, blotted out the

disfigurement and made glorious the suffering. With Him through-

out the ordeal have been sympathizing friends, whose hearts were

sore and whose souls sorrowed because they could not give Him

aid in thi^ His time of trial. How the Magdalen must have been

bowed down in sorrow when she was not permitted to approach

Him, not allowed to wipe the blood and dust and spittle from His

face, nay, even forbidden to show in any way that her heart beat in

sympathy with His in its suffering and humiliation.

But if this grieved Magdalen and the other weeping women, whai



MARY’S. PARTICIPATION IN THE PASSION
35

must have been the feelings of that one who was closest to Him of

all others ? Let us with eyes of tender love and of living faith look

into the immaculate heart of Mary that we may see therein reflected

the Passion of her Divine Son.

Holy Church wishes us to consider the sorrows of the Mother

even as she tells us it is necessary that we should bring home to

ourselves the sufferings of the Son. Twice during the year she

celebrates a feast recalling the sorrows of Mary: on the 15th day

of September and on the Friday of Passion Week. In the twofold

celebration there is a distinction. The feast in September is a

feast of the Blessed Mother herself, in as far as any feast of hers

may be held without direct reference to her Son. On that day she

asks us to remember the seven great sorrows in her life, the endur-

ing of which gained for her the title of Queen of Martyrs; and

they are: The Prophesy of Simeon—The Flight into Egypt

—

The Three Days’ Loss—The meeting of the Son and Mother on the
way to Calvary—The Foot of the Cross—Jesus Dead in her arms
and The Burial of Jesus. On the Friday of Passion Week she

brings us to the foot of the Cross and bids us contemplate the

Mother gazing on her Son as He dies on the hard bed of the Cross.

Her sorrows then were not confined to the time of the Passion,

but began with the presentation of the Child in the Temple and

ended only with her death. It is, however, in connection with the

Passion that we shall consider her sorrows, that we may learn from

them, not only as affecting her but as afflicting the heart of her

Son, another proof, an intensely human proof, if you will, of the

love of God for man, and a true idea of sin which could exact such

a proof.

We might, however, ask: why did Jesus permit His Mother to
pass through this ordeal? Did He not love her as a mother, and

would it not have been better to have permitted her to pass away

as was permitted St. Joseph, and thus be spared the necessity of

being a witness to His agony? Would not this have been better, as

she was not to have the privilege of assisting Him in any way in His

time of suffering? She was not to have the right to approach Him,

to soothe with those consoling words that can fall only from a

mother’s lips, to assuage by those tender touches that can be

prompted only by the maternal heart. All denied her, all forbiddeu



36 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

Him ! She could only stand by and in agony know that her presence

but added to His sufferings, while He realized that every wound

lacerating His Body made a far deeper scar upon her maternal

heart, every sigh that fell from His swollen lips brought forth a

deeper groan of anguish from her breaking heart, while every

twinge of pain that racked His nerves drove the sword of grief

deeper and deeper into her sorrow-laden soul. Why permit this?

Father Faber, from whose “Foot of the Cross” we have not

merely sought inspiration, but from which as from a perennial font

we have drawn both ideas and expression, gives the answer thus:

Simply on account of love, the great love He had for her.

We can readily understand why He would suffer for the redemp-
tion of man. He knew the value of an immortal soul, knew how in

the court of Heaven it was looked upon as a priceless treasure.

“What,” He asked, “will a man give in exchange for his soul?”

Nothing that might be conjured up even in the highest flight of

imagination can equal it in value. Not even, in exchange, would

the whole world make recompense for one soul. Who then can com-

pute the value of the souls of all mankind? This it was what made

the Passion a reality. But why draw the Mother into this sea of

suffering? The same law that encompassed Him, says Father

Faber, must surround her, and the law of the Incarnation, of the

Redemption, was a law of humiliation and of suffering. That He

gave as one requisite of discipleship, “if you would be My disciple,

take up your cross and follow Me,” and as no being could come so

close to Him as did His mother, so none will suffer as she suffered.

When the angelic messenger made to her his announcement, he

gave her to understand that she would be raised not only above all

creatures of earth but above even the highest angel in Heaven
;
but

at the same time she realized that with the dignity and honor would

come suffering; for, in the economy of salvation, after the Fall

reconciliation was to be affected through suffering, hence, when

she gave her “fiat” to one, she accepted the other.

And why does He permit her to suffer for our sake ? She is to be-

come the mother of the afflicted, the mother to whom poor, fallen

man will look for comfort and consolation, and, that her heart

may sympathize with us in our distress, she will undergo every suf-

fering except that brought on by sin, which man may be called



MARY'S PARTICIPATION IN THE PASSION a?

upon to endure. Can we not also say that she suffers in order that

we may have greater confidence in time of tribulation and tempta-

tion? True, contemplation of the sufferings of the Son should

give this confidence
;
yet we must admit that it is not so. Is it not

a fact that in thinking of the Passion, when we find preeminent the

thought that the Victim was God, and of this truth we must never

be forgetful, is it not a fact, I say, that this very truth in some way

causes us to have less human compassion, less sympathy with the

Victim? God suffered, God died for us, wonderful truth, even

though at times it makes us less able to enter into His sufferings

as we would. Now, however, we see a creature like unto ourselves

share in the suffering, through her we can bring ourselves to realize

what they mean.

He permits her to suffer also that her merit may be the greater.

As the angel said, the plenitude of grace rested in her immaculate

soul, and, though the grace of the maternity could not be merited

in the usual acceptation of this term, yet, on account of her abso-

lute submission to the Holy Will of God, of the perfect conformity

of her will with His, she can be said to have merited grace, even as

other children of Adam may merit it, and her merit came from a

life of suffering, and this we fondly call “Her participation in the

Passion.”

While it is true that from the record in the Bible we cannot get

a clear or definite account of the extent of the Blessed Mother’s

companionship during His public life, we can reasonably conclude

that they were never separated for any length of time. The Son

and the Mother, or to speak in our human way, the Mother and Son,

together in Bethlehem, in Nazareth
;
oh, the sweetest of those nine-

teen years, from the time He went out of the Temple, after sur-

prising the doctors by the depth of His questions and the wisdom

of His answers, and “went down to Nazareth and was subject to

them” until He enters on His public life. It was at her request

that He performed His first miracle
;
performed it even before the

time set by the Eternal Father for His entrance into His public life.

“My time has not yet come.” We can then rest assured they never
remained long separated.

Mary was not with her Son in the Garden, yet she tells us in her

revelations that in spirit she followed Him throughout all His

agony, and while He was lying prostrate bleeding from every pore



38 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

of His Body, she was so filled with compassion that it seemed that

her heart was bleeding drop for drop. We are told that with the
ever faithful Magdalen she went to the door of the High Priest but

was refused admittance. St. John leads her to the upper chamber

where the Last Supper was eaten and there she waits for morning.

The beloved Disciple goes to the Hall to witness the mockery and

hear the condemnation to learn, if possible, what will be the end.

In the morning he returns and with her and the three faithful

women goes to the Hall of the Roman Governor whither her Son,

bound as a malefactor, has been led. Her heart rejoices when the

Judge proclaims: “I find no cause in Him,” but is immediately

filled with fear when she hears the cry from all sides : “away with

Him, crucify Him—we will have no king but Caesar,” and notes
the hatred manifested especially in the Priests and Rulers of the

people. She witnessed the scourging, counting the strokes
;
for she

revealed to St. Bridgit the fact that the lash fell more than five

thousand times on the lacerated back of her Son. This may seem

like an exaggeration, like the over-zealous desire of a pious and

sentimental soul to impress upon the minds of others the depth of

the suffering endured in the yard of Pilate; yet there is no reason

to doubt it, much less deny its truth. Remember this was not the

scourging sanctioned by law (forty stripes less one), but was

prompted by the desire to satisfy the enemies of the accused, hence

might be as brutal as possible
;
while on the other hand He did not

succumb to the torture simply because His Divinity, while in no

way mitigating it, lent to His humanity a power to suffer far be-

yond its natural endurance.

Imagine the feelings of the mother as she looks upon her Son

dressed as a mock king, and hears the derisive salute “Hail King

of the Jews.” Follow her back to the Hall and stand beside her as

surrounded by the jeering mob she sees her Son as the Judge pre-

sents Him, saying: “Behold the Man.” These words may have

little or no meaning for the people; but oh the world of meaning

they have for Mary. “Ecce Homo, Mater: Mother behold the Man

:

behold your Son.” He is disfigured, it is true, where congealed blood

does not besmear His Face there dust and spittle distorts that lov-

ing countenance. Yet, oh Mother, it does not hide the beauty of

your Jesus, your Son from you. Your heart sickens at the sight,

you hear the cry “away with Him,” and it is almost with a sigh of



MARTS PARTICIPATION IN THE PASSION 39

relief that ycru hail the end even though that end shall be His death

on the Cross. With the cry: “On to Golgotha, on to Calvary,,”

ringing in her ears, she goes back to the Cenacle to await the com-

ing of John with whom she will go even to the fateful hill, there to

remain until the end.

Of those making that “First Way of the Cross” there are some

who sympathize with the Cross Bearer and His Mother, but most

of those in that procession are either manifestly indifferent or filled

with hatred. “There followed Him a great multitude,” says Holy

Writ. With St. John and the three faithful companions, the sor-

rowful Mother goes to a place that the procession must pass so that

she may meet her Son on His way to death. They have not long to

wait. Bowed down by the heavy weight of the Cross, He appears

before her. Only a few days before she saw a procession of which

He was the head, then she heard the voices of the people raised in

exultation as they sang: “Hosannah to the Son of David, blessed is

He that comes in the Name of the Lord.” Then she saw them

spread their garments on the ground that the beast He rode might

walk over them, saw the branches of the palm-tree strew the ground

so that as a conquering hero He might enter the City.

Now what sound falls upon her ears? “Away with Him, crucify

Him
; we will have no king but Caesar.” At last He comes, rather

staggers, to the place where the mournful Mother waits. Mother,

behold your Son ! See Him as He endeavors, by winking, to wipe

the clotted blood and dust from His eyes that He may look on you.

Your heart was filled with sorrow at the three days* loss; your mind

was never at rest when separated from Him; now you are in His

presence. Oh that look between Mother and Son; each heart, al-

ready filled with anguish, but adds to the grief of the other. His,

because He brings sorrow to her, and hers because she may not go

to Him and in His troubles relieve Him. She will, she must ap-
proach. Is she not His mother, has she not a mother’s right, a right

that none may gainsay, much less deny ? But no, “Mother, this sac-

rifice we will make. Veronica may assuage my suffering to some
extent by presenting the handkerchief

; Simeon may aid by assist-

ing in the carrying the Cross, but you, Mother, with Me will co-
operate and we shall drink the chalice even to its bitter dregs.”

The strain becomes too much and He falls to the ground. It

seems that tired nature can withstand no more, and those around



40 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

Him think that death has come. Three times He falls, and when, at

the last fall, He seems unable to rise, the Sorrowing Mother breathes

a sigh of satisfaction, thinking merciful death has come to His re-

lief. “Ah no, Mother, Calvary’s summit is almost reached, there

we shall see the end
;
but not until My sufferings have been increased

and your agony made greater than human heart could naturally

bear.”

Who has not been filled with wonder at the outward calmness of

a loving mother as, kneeling at the bedside, she ministers to a dying

child. Other members of the household, distracted in their grief,

seem unable to do anything but give vent to their sorrow. The

mother, her heart tom with anguish, never ceases those little atten-

tions that only a mother’s heart can suggest. Now she endeavors

to cool the fevered brow, now, by a drop of water, she assuages

the burning thirst, again she arranges the pillow, and though tears

would rush down her cheeks, and sobs rake her bosom, she bids

nature await the end ere she give way to her maternal feelings;

for, must she not restrain herself, lest she add pain to the child

whose life is ebbing out? Who may tell the heart-burnings of

Mary as she stands by and witnesses the death of her Son?

Through His sacred hands, crunching the flesh and tearing the

sinews, the cruel nails are driven. With blow after blow of the

hammer, the nail passes through His feet into the hard wood of

the Cross. All this the Mother sees, and to her it is more excru-

ciating than if the hammer were falling upon her living flesh, or

the nails tearing her heart asunder. Truly it is said:

“O
!
quam tristis et afflicta “Oh, how sad and sore distressed

Fuit ilia benedicta Now was she, that Mother blest

Mater Unigeniti.” Of the Sole begotten One.”

Truly afflicted, sorely distressed, yet never during the whole

ordeal does she lose consciousness, never turn her eyes from the

hard bed of her tortured Son. This excess of suffering on the part

of both may not in justice be demanded, but in love is given. Now

the Cross, with its Victim, is lifted up, and with satisfaction, the

leaders of the people look upon the hanging Jesus. To some

she may be known, and in some hearts there may be a spark of

pity for the mother thus distressed, but to most she is merely the

unfortunate mother of this condemned Son, and, if the Priests look



MARY’S PARTICIPATION IN THE PASSION 41

her way it is with a glance of piteous contempt. No tongue up-

braids her, no hand is raised against her, but every wound inflicted

on the Son makes a corresponding wound in the heart of the

Mother

:

“Holy Mother, pierce me through;

In my heart each wound renew

Of my Saviour crucified.”

For almost three hours she is kept at a distance from the Cross,

though every detail of the awful tragedy is keenly made manifest

to her. Amid the voices of the scoffers she hears the Son appeal

to the Father, not for vengeance but for mercy. “Father, forgive

them, for they know not what they do.” She hears Him cry out

that He is burning with thirst, but cannot moisten His parched lips

with even one drop of water. She listens as He again and again

speaks; but in all of His words not one of reproach, nothing but

absolute submission to the Will of the Eternal Father.

At last, she is permitted to come even to the foot of the Cross.

A dark pall envelopes Calvary. The voices of the scoffers ^re

hushed, and a silence that infuses a fear into the heart of die

boldest ensues. Singly and in groups, the Chief Priests and their

retainers leave the hallowed spot. “And the sun was darkened”

;

1

veiling its face, the sun refuses to look upon the dying agony of its

Creator.

“Now there stood by the Cross of Jesus, Mary, His Mother,”

says the Evangelist. We need not the assurance of the Recorder
to know that when permitted she would come as close as possible to

the Cross. By the Cross stood Mary, His Mother. ’Tis well she is,

not there to lessen His sufferings, to dress His wounds or in any

way assuage His pains, rather does her presence increase His agony,

for well He knows that she suffers in Him even as He finds in-

crease of torment in knowing her sorrow.

Now is fulfilled the prophecy spoken at the dawn of crea-
tion to the first woman and through her to the tempting ser-

pent: “I will put enmity between thee and the serpent, and thy

seed and her seed, and in the end her foot shall crush thy head.”

In the shadow of the Cross, the Virginal Mother crushes the head

of the serpent and with her Son gains victory over sin and the con-

sequences of sin. She stands there to concur in the sacrifice.



42 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

The Victim is the Son of the Eternal Father and by the Father is

sacrificed. He is also the Son of Mary and by her is offered as a

sacrifice. “She stands,” as St. Bernardine says, “at the foot of

the Cross, both living and dead, she lived in dying, she was dying

but still lived. She could not die, though alive, she was dead.”

She stands there on our account. It was; in this awful moment

that Jesus gave us to her as her children even as He infused into

her heart a love for us greater than any earthly mother had or

could have for earthly child. “Woman behold thy Son
;
Son behold

thy mother,” were almost His last words, and think you she will

ever forget them?

She stands there until the spark of life had fled, and when the

Body is taken down from the Cross, she, with her own hands, pre-

pares it for burial and follows it to the tomb.

“Eia Mater fons amoris, “Mother fount of charity.

Me sentire vim doloris Let me share thy agony

Fac, ut tecum lugeam.” Make me weep with thee.”

sings the author of the hymn of sorrows, as with soul-grieving pen

he writes the plaintive heart-throbs of the Dolorous Mother, and

will not we, her children, mingle our tears with hers, will not our

prayer be:

“Juxta crucem tecum stare,

Et me tibi sociare

In planctu desidero.”

“Let me stand where thou

hast stood

Mourning with my motherhood

By the holy rood.”

Stand, Christian soul, at the foot of the Cross, and learn the

love of God for you and the hatred you should have for sin. When

tempted to sin, look to the dying Son, and if that be not enough to

keep you from sin, then look to the sorrowful Mother at the foot

of the Cross
;
then sin if you will

;
sin if you can ; sin, but in sin-

ning remember that you not only nail the Son to the Cross but that

you drive the sword of sorrow deeper and deeper into the heart of

Mary, the Mother of God, your own loving Mother.



THE CRUCIFIXION 43

VI. The Crucifixion

"He went forth to that place which is called Calvary, hut in Hebrew!

Golgotha, where they crucified Him."—John, xlx, 17-18.

SYNOPSIS.—In few and simple words the Evangelists record the most
sublime and at the same time the most awful and loving tragedy the

world has ever witnessed: The Crucifixion and Death of Jesus Christ.

Calvary, in Hebrew called Golgotha, was reputed to be the burial place

of the skull of Adam. It was not, however, for this reason that it was

chosen; but because here the worst criminals were put to death, and

here all might see Him die.
Calvary, though hardly of sufficient eminence to be called a hill, is

now known throughout the world as Mount Calvary, a name that gives

hope to the sinner even as it brings satisfaction to the just.

He carried His Cross to Calvary, carried it, though so weak He could
scarcely walk, and when the journey ended. He was nailed to the cross.
Whether three or four nails were used is of little consequence ; all we

need remember is: Through His sacred hands and feet nails were driven

into the wood of the cross. For three hours He hangs in agony. During
that time His enemies reviled Him; yea there was blasphemy in the

shadow of the cross. There, too, was made an act of Faith.
tf

Indeed

,

this man was the Son of God," said the Centurion.
From the cross, He speaks but few words, no word of reproach, yet

how highly these few words are treasured.
He bows His head, thus giving death permission to come to Him, and

dies. Who dies ? God. For whom? For man. He is taken down from
the cross, when all is consummated, and placed in the Tomb.

“They crucified Him.” “Behold,” says Father Galwey, in that

admirable work, “The Watches of the Passion,” “the few and

simple words with which the Inspired Chronicler records this, the

most awful yet most sublime and loving tragedy the world has ever

witnessed.” Only a few words, continues this zealous writer, but,

like that other short sentence, “Pilate took Jesus and scourged Him,”

what depths of meaning contained therein, and what an excess of

cruelty and torture expressed.

A tragedy it is indeed, not only of earth but of Heaven, not only
affecting time but eternity: for, as its fruits are to be gained in

time, its consequences shall be recognized through all eternity. It

was, as we have seen in our former meditations, conceived in envy,

begotten of hatred and carried out in the most barbarous way.

Withal, it was a tragedy most loving and merciful; for it mani-

fested the loving mercy of God for man; the Creator for the

creature, aye for the creature who has not only disobeyed the com-

mands of his Creator, but has trampled upon His precepts
;
laughed

to scorn His counsels, and defied His most solemn threats. It is



44 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

also most sublime, for here we see not only God suffering death at

the hands of man, but dying for the sake of those whose hearts

are inflamed with hatred towards Him and whose hands are red-

dened in His blood.

Scarcely will you find a man willing to give up his life for a just

man, says the Holy Ghost, but here we see the God-Man laying

down His life, laying it down willingly, “with desire have I de-

sired to eat this Pasch with you before that I die,” not only for the

just, but, mercy of mercy, for sinners.

We might ask: How could Jesus of Nazareth endure the tor-
tures that thus far have been inflicted upon Him ? Simply because

His Divinity aided His humanity. In saying this we do not in-

timate that the Divine Nature made the suffering less hard to bear,

rather that it made the human nature able the more to suffer. By

right He should long since have died. “My soul,” He said, “is sor-

rowful even unto death.” Yet the Divinity, without in any way

mitigating the suffering, sustains the humanity. Hence, though

suffering only in His human nature, we truly say: God suffered,

God died for man.

The place to which they lead Him is of historic interest. It

was here, according to tradition, that the skull of Adam, given by

Noe to one of his sons, was interred, hence the name Golgotha,

which, being interpreted, means Skull. Where then rests all that

on earth remains of the first Adam who, by his sin, brought misery

into the world, there shall the second Adam, by His atonement,

blot out that sin, and, by the graces here merited, change that

misery into blessings and again reconcile man with his God.
.

It was not, however, on account of this tradition that the place

was chosen, but rather to add odium to His death, for here com-

mon criminals were executed, and, wishing to brand Him as such,

the cry is “On to Golgotha.” How the malicious designs of man

are frustrated ! Golgotha, or Calvary, from being a term of re-

proach, has become synonymous with all that is grand and glorious,

is of infinite mercy and boundless love. In itself so insignificant as

scarcely to merit the name of hill on the map of the' world, it is now

known as Mount Calvary, and its very name gives hope to the

soul laden with sin, while to the just it brings increase of joy and

consolation; for the graces there merited give to man a right to

Heaven, a right none may gainsay, much less deny.



THE CRUCIFIXION 45

The first journey to Calvary was made with difficulty and in

torture, in deep humiliation and in sorrow; now, that the way has

been marked, traced by the blood of the Victim, we can make the

way in peace, springing from the blessings of hope. Three times

He fell on the way and it would seem at times that worn-out

nature would protest and the hill of Calvary never would be reached.

Now, however, that the journey has ended, will they bring about

His death quickly and, as far as may be, painlessly? Even into the

valley of the shadow will hatred follow Him. “They crucified

Him,” says the narrative, and it is left to man to dwell on this mere

statement and from it draw some idea of the pain and, above all,

the humiliation of the death.

They offer Him wine mixed with galL To the condemned wine

was given to fortify them and thus enable them the better to endure

the pain about to be inflicted. Behold how even this act of mercy

was charged with malice. According to custom, the wine is ten-

dered but mixed with gall
;
and the Scripture says : “He would not

drink,” not, say the Commentators, on account of the bitterness, but

because He would not alleviate His sufferings even by the merest

drop of wine. Stripping Him of His garments they place Him on

the hard bed of the Cross and fasten Him to it with nails driven

through His Hands and Feet. The soldier places the nail in the

palm of the right Hand and with heavy hammer drives it through

the flesh into the wood of the Cross. No bone is broken, for it was

said : “of Him a bone you shall not break”
;
but the sinews are torn

as through the Hand the nail finds its way. That Hand which with

the Father united in the creation of the world; that Hand which

during His sojourn on earth was raised so often to call down bless-

ings on man; behold it now extended, and for what? That it may

be grasped in thankfulness and in gratitude for the many times it

was raised to call down favors on man? No; but to receive the

cruel nail.

The right Hand fastened, they come to the left and then to the

Feet, and now His enemies feel a certain amount of satisfaction, for

they see Him on His bed of death and from it He cannot rise as He
is fastened with nails.

How many nails were used in fastening Jesus to the Cross? This
question has never been definitely settled. Some contend that four

were used, one to each Hand and two to the Feet, while others main-



46 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

tain that He was fastened to the Cross with but three nails. Tradi-

tion, as manifested in the crucifix in the general usage sanctioned

by the Church, favors the latter opinion. The question, however,

is of little moment
;
all we need know is : that, nailed to the Cross,

our Jesus in love expiated our sins and reconciled us with the

offended Father.

They drag the Cross to the place prepared for it, and, with much

jeering and with shouts of exultation, it is lifted up and, with a

rude shock, falls into the hole made for it. The shock almost tears

His Hands and Feet from the fastening nails, and would have done

so had they ' not taken the precaution of securing Him with cords

and ropes, which, though preventing the Body from falling from

the Cross, in no way mitigated the pain caused by the nails. The

shock draws a moan of anguish from the Sufferer that finds a re-

sponsive sigh in the heart of the sorrowful mother. Now the Cross

stands erect and around it circle the priests and rulers. At first

sight of the Victim thus tortured they stand aghast; the suffering

seems too terrible even for their hatred towards Him. Then one,

more callous than the rest, cries out : “Behold Him now
;
look upon

the man who dared denounce your priests
;
He spoke of us as whit-

ened sepulchres, as blind leaders of the blind, for us He had no

words but words of censure. Gaze upon Him now and ask: who is

the false teacher, who the seducer of the people?” “Oh, yes,” they

say, “He is a king; behold His crown,” for they had placed the

crown of thorns on His head. “Gaze upon His throne; it stands

on high that all may see it, all view the king. No danger of Him

losing His throne; for, behold, we have fastened Him to it with

nails.”

Even the most degraded and depraved are softened at the ap-

proach of death, and it is only the most savage that will not do all

in his power to assuage the agony of the dying. How act the per-

secutors of Jesus? The people stood beholding and the Rulers

with them deride Him, saying: “He saved others, let Him save

Himself.” And mocking they say: “If He be king of Israel, let

Him come down from the cross and we will believe Him.” Boldly

they pass and repass in front of Him, challenging Him and calling

on Him now to prove that He is the Son of God. “Come down from

the Cross,” they say, “and we will believe you.” Proof after proof

have they had of His wonderful power. “He hath done all things

well,” had been the verdict of those who had witnessed His works.



THE CRUCIFIXION
47i

Again and again the people said : “His words, like His works, are

evidently from God, for no man ever spoke as He speaks.” Hear-

ing the people thus speak of Him, the Priests were filled with envy.

Will they then believe in Him if He should give the proof they now

ask if He come down from the Cross? Well does He know the

perversity of their hearts, and fully does He understand that even

if He should give this last proof they would still repudiate Him.

What an insult in being compelled to hear them thus boasting. “Do

you hear, oh Jesus of Nazareth—do you mark our words, oh Gali-
lean

;
come down from the Cross and we will believe in you, nay,

we will lead all the people to you, and in you shall all Judea believe.

Where is now your boasted power
;
you, who said : ‘destroy this tem-

ple and in three days I will built it?’ You a miracle worker? yes,

a miracle worker among the ignorant. Now satisfy us, the Rulers ;
satisfy us by a miracle, by one that shall redound to your own ben-

efit; come down from the Cross and we, Priests and leaders of

Israel, will become your disciples, and your followers shall be lim-

ited only by the confines of Israel, for we will compel all to

acknowledge You.” “Vah,” they say, “He said He was greater

than Abraham, more powerful than Moses, and proclaimed Him-

self more than a prophet. Let Him give evidence of that power,

give proof of that greatness and we will believe Him.”

Truly was there blasphemy in the very shadow of the Cross.

“They that passed by blasphemed Him, wagging their heads.” “He

spoke of His trust in God
;
let God now deliver Him and we will

believe,” they cry out. To the taunts of the priests are added the

insults of the soldiers, who, in derision, say : “If thou be the king

of the Jews, save Thyself.” No taunt more stinging than that which

glories in failure, either real or fancied
;
and how they rejoice in the

apparent failure of this Man, how sarcastically they remind Him

of the power of which He seemed to boast, and of His present help-

lessness.

Behold, in the midst of their exultation, the Priests receive a

humiliation. Pilate has ordered that the cause of His death be

proclaimed; has ordered that an inscription be placed above Him

on the Cross. In Latin, Greek and Hebrew it is written, the three

principal languages of the time. And what do they read? “Jesus

of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” “No, no,” say the Rulers, “not

this; write that He said He was King of the Jews.” “What I have

written, I have written.” In other words, “it shall remain as in-



48 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

scribed,” curtly answers the Governor, and thus they are compelled

to acknowledge that they have crucified their King. “We will have

no King but Caesar,” they cried out in the Praetorium, and now, on

Calvary, they must perforce acknowledge Him as a lineal descen-

ded of the Royal House of David. While protesting against this

and while circulating about the Cross belching forth insults and

blasphemies, the Priests are amazed on hearing His voice on the

Cross.

Have you ever reflected on the silence of Jesus during the time

of His suffering? From the Hall of Judgment until He reaches

Calvary He speaks only to the weeping women He met on the way.

In all His tortures He asks neither for surcease of suffering, nor

appeals for sympathy, and His words to the weeping women are

more in the nature of an encouragement to them than a begging of

consolation for self. At last He breaks the silence, and what is the

purport of His words? Will He now sue for clemency? “Hearken,”

say the bystanders, “He speaks”; and they hear the voice of the

Son of Man appealing to the Eternal Father and asking, what?

That He would visit upon His persecutors the vengeance their

crime merits? No. Can it be possible? “Father! forgive them,

they know not what they do,” the sweet voice of the dying Jesus

on the Cross floats down the hill of Calvary, and those within hear-

ing are filled with astonishment. Will not this supreme act of

clemency, this unheard-of voice of charity have some effect on His

prosecutors ? Even one dying with Him is not moved, but, in blas-

phemous derision, says : “If Thou be the Son of God, if Thou be

the Christ, save Thyself and us.” The other reviles not, but re-

bukes his companion by saying: “We die justly, this Man unjustly.”

He turns to Jesus and adds: “Lord remember me when Thou shalt

enter into Thy Kingdom.” And oh, the reward for this act of

sympathy ! “This day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise.” Seven

words, that is, seven times according to spiritual writers, He spoke

from the Cross. Without trying to follow these words in sequence,

we shall briefly consider them as found in the Gospels.

Looking down from the Cross, He sees His sorrowing Mother

and the beloved Disciple. To the Mother He says : “Woman, be-

hold thy Son,” and to the disciple : “Son behold thy. Mother.” At

that moment, as we saw in our last meditation, He infused into her

heart a mother’s love for each and every child of earth, a love more



THE CRUCIFIXION 49

tender than earthly mother could have for earthly child. Think

you she will ever forget this which may be termed the last Will and

Testament of her dying Son? A dark cloud now envelops Calvary,

and filled with fear the Priests and many of the people, singly and

in groups, leave the hallowed spot.

From out the darkness the voice of the dying Lord is heard:

“Eloi, Eloi, lamma sabacthani,” which being interpreted is: “My

God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?
,,

Many interpreta-

tions are given of these words, which, the Scripture says, were

uttered in a loud voice. Knowing as we do that by the Incarna-

tion the two natures, Divine and Human, of our Lord are hypo-

statically united, and that not even by death can the Humanity be

separated from the Divinity, we can only listen to these words and

admire them. According to some commentators He speaks merely

as man, and as man suffered this abandonment; even as we heard

Him last night in the Garden cry out : “Father, if it be possible, let

this chalice pass by
;
yet not my will but Thine be done.” In what

did the abandonment consist? In the fact that He not only, at that

moment, though innocence itself, felt the weight of the sins of the

world, and as one bearing these sins experienced the torments of

the damned
;
but, in a manner no tongue may explain, the Divinity

allowed the humanity to undergo the pain of loss that comes to the

soul when it hears those awful words : “Depart from Me ye ac-

cursed, etc.” Whatever the import of the words, we know they

were wrenched from a soul plunged into the deepest abyss of suffer-

ing. Thinking He called Elias, one standing by said : “Let us see

if Elias will come to His aid,” while others, some friendly, many

unfriendly, awaited with bated breath the next scene in this awful

drama.

Once more the voice of the Sufferer is heard, as consumed with

agony He cries out: “I thirst.” We wonder not that His pain-

racked and fevered Body was tortured with thirst. Neither food

nor drink had been given Him from the time He left the Cenacle

the night before, and during that time He had lost much blood and

poor human nature had been worn out by the trials to which He

had been subjected. This, however, was not the thirst of which He

complained; rather, the thirst for souls, especially the souls of

those who encompassed His death as well as of those who by that

death would not profit. It was also to atone for the sins we com-



50 FROM THE CENACLE TO THE TOMB

mit in indulging our sensual appetites. One of the soldiers dips a

sponge in vinegar and, placing it upon a reed, lifts it to the swollen

lips of the Victim on the Cross.

When Jesus had tasted the vinegar, He said: “It is consum-

mated.”

“It is consummated.” The work for which I came to earth is

finished, the work of the Eternal Father. The redemption of man

is now effected
;
nothing remains to be done

;
hence, saying in a loud

voice: “Father into Thy hands I commend my spirit,” He bows

His head and gives up the ghost. “He bows His head,” says a holy

writer, “thus giving death permission to approach and dies*” “It is

consummated.” Some time before He had said to His disciples:

“I have a baptism wherein I am to be baptized, and how l am con-

strained until it be accomplished.” This is the baptism of which

He spoke, and mark how it has been accomplished
;
baptised in His

own blood, shed freely, shed willingly for the redemption of the

world. Now the absolute reign of sin is at an end and the desola-

tion brought on earth by man’s rebellion in the Garden of Eden is

changed into the reign of grace by the consummation of the sacri-

fice which began in the Garden of Gethsemani. Not merely has

justice been satisfied; not only has the debt incurred by sin been

paid
;
not only has the reconciliation of man with God been effected,

but enough has been done to draw the hearts of men to their God,

and to infuse into those hearts a hope and a security, a certainty of

salvation that the powers of evil can never dim, much less take

away from man. Crying out with a loud voice, a voice heard not

only on Calvary, but heard throughout the world, heard through-

out Heaven, heard even in the uttermost depths of hell. He bows

His head and gives up the Spirit. A cry, says another Holy Writer,
of pain and a cry of joy. Of pain, because of death

;
for though, on

account of the hypostatic union, the Divine nature will never be

separated from the human nature (death is the separation of the

soul from the body)
,
yet death did separate the Divine nature from

His manhood that is from His composite human nature—from His
Body and Soul united. Hence St. Thomas says : “During the time

of death He was not a man
;
during His days in the grave He was

not God-Man.” To understand this mystery, which is one of the five

principal mysteries of our Holy Religion, we must remember that

death is not a separation of the two natures of Christ, but is the

separation of the soul from the body. On account of this hypo-



THE CRUCIFIXION 511

static union of the two natures we, as we have seen, truly say : God

died for man.

A cry of joy because victory has been gained and in that victory

both Heaven and earth rejoice. “It is consummated,” and the first

fruit of that consummation is found in the act of faith made by

the Centurion at the foot of the Cross : “Indeed this was the Son

of God.”

Now behold all nature protests against the outrage perpetrated

by man on nature’s God. The sun was darkened, the earth trem-

bles, the veil of the Temple is rent in twain, and graves are opened,

from which many of the saints who were at rest came out and after

the Resurrection appeared to many in Jerusalem. His enemies,

solicitous for the letter of the law, go to Pilate and “that the bodies

might not remain on the cross on the Sabbath Day” ask permis-

sion to cause the deaths of the three crucified. They break the legs

of the two
;
but when they come to Jesus, the Centurion (Longinus)

says : “'You shall not in your hatred pursue Him farther. Can you

not see that He is dead? You have had yOur wishes to the full.”

To satisfy them, rather than to save the Body, He opens the side

with his spear and thence comes blood and water. First blood,

then water, to show that the last drop of His Blood had been shed

for the redemption of man.

With Pilate’s permission the Body is taken down from the Cross

and placed in a grave, made for the burial of Joseph of Arimathea,

so that, even for His last resting place on earth, the dead Jesus

depends on the charity of another.

With Jesus we have now been during the time of His Passion,

and having witnessed in spirit all that has been done for us for our

redemption, we might ask: what shall we do to show our appre-

ciation of this manifestation of love? What does He ask? Simply

that we return love for the love that He has shown. This we do

not only by sympathizing with Him in His sufferings, but by hat-

ing, detesting and avoiding sin; for, as we have seen, though love

was the cause, sin gave the occasion for the Passion, not merely

the sins of mankind, but our sins. With feelings then of recip-

rocal love we will go to Calvary, and gazing on that bloody por-

trait of charity we will bewail our sins, and from hearts burning

with love will say: “Mercy, My Jesus, mercy!”