De Nona, in Passione Domini

De Nona, in Passione Domini

At the ninth hour, if you have a devout soul, you should reflect with a mournful and prayerful mind on how the very fountain of life and the sweetness of our hearts—Jesus, your most loving Lord, so worthy of all grace—is drying up. His veins are already drained of blood, his strength is failing, and as he approaches death, he begins to lower his weary eyes and his face turns pale. See how he begins to bow his head toward his mother, as if giving her a final farewell—a farewell, I say, of sorrow and total desolation, which he could not express in words because of his overwhelming Passion and immeasurable pain. He seems to commend his body to her, so cruelly pierced, torn, and shattered on every side. He also bows toward his Father, as if showing by his manner of dying that he was dying in obedience to the Father, not against his will, and as if giving thanks to him for calling him back to himself, teaching us likewise to give thanks in adversity. He signifies that he is following the path through various tribulations to the reward, and as if entrusting his spirit to him. He also seems to show himself turning away from the title on the cross, teaching us to avoid empty glory, as if he were saying: "I do not wish to reign here; I do not want Pilate to write or name me King." And it is as if, reconciled to the Father, he is announcing peace to me, greeting me, offering me a kiss, and inclining his ears to hear my prayers, which previously had not been enough to reach him. Once this is done, before you go through them all, recite the first and last verses with a cry, but the ones in between in silence. The Apostle seems to speak of this cry of Christ, just as he does of his own, when he says: 'Who in the days of his flesh, offering up prayers with a loud cry and tears, was heard for his reverence.' It seems that Christ wept both in those words, 'Eli, Eli, etc.,' and in these, 'Father, into your hands, etc.' Others say that Christ sang the entire Psalm, 'O God, my God, look upon me,' and then the Psalm, 'In you, O Lord,' up to the verse, 'Into your hands I commend my spirit.' The Lord Jesus commended his spirit to the Father, not because he needed to, but to instruct us; he concluded with this final, seventh word. That is, the seventh word, spoken with a loud cry and tears: 'Father, into your hands,' which means, 'into your power, I commend my spirit.' By which he wanted to... clarify that the souls of the saints ascend from that moment into the hands of God, for before that, the souls of all were held in the underworld until he came who preached redemption to the captives. Hence Cyril says: 'This voice teaches that the souls of the saints are no longer shut up in the underworld as they were before, but are with God, Christ having been made the beginning of this reality.' And so Athanasius says: He commends all mortals to the Father, having been brought to life in Himself, for we are His members, just as the Apostle says. All are one in Christ. Earlier, the Lord had cried out, 'Eli, Eli,' and so on, and then He cries out, 'Father, into your hands,' and so on. Therefore, some say—and Jerome agrees—that Christ recited everything from that Psalm, 'My God, my God, look upon me,' down to the verse, 'Into your hands' (which includes ten psalms and one hundred and fifty verses), with the greatest devotion. He left them to us as an example of manifold instruction, as will be clear below in the documents of the article. Having said this final word, He bowed His head and surrendered or sent forth His spirit—not forced or against His will, but when He chose and voluntarily; He died without any compulsion, meaning He sent His spirit out of His body of His own accord and by His own power, and no one else took it from Him. As Augustine says: "Who sleeps when he wants to, just as Jesus died when He wanted to?" Who takes off his clothes when he wants to, just as He stripped Himself of His flesh when He wanted to? Who dies when he wants to, as He died when He wanted to? How great is the power of the Judge to be hoped for or feared, if such was the appearance of the dying One! So says Augustine. Here, then, it is clear that Christ surrendered His spirit while crying out, and in tears. In the first two things—surrendering His spirit and crying out—His divinity appeared, and Christ declared the power of His own Godhead. To surrender it at the ninth hour, in the Passion of the Lord. To surrender the spirit by one's own virtue is a sign of divine power, and it belongs to no one but God. By crying out as He was dying, He showed Himself to be the true God, for other men who are dying are unable to shout, but can barely breathe or speak in a whisper. In the other two things, however—namely, in prayer and in weeping—His humanity appeared, and Christ manifested His feeling of mercy. When Matthew says, 'Jesus, however, crying out with a loud voice, gave up His spirit,' and Mark says, 'Jesus, having sent forth a loud voice, expired,' Luke clearly indicates what He said with that loud voice, saying: 'And crying out with a loud voice, Jesus said: Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit,' and saying this, He expired. John, however, being silent about this voice, writes: 'When Jesus had taken the vinegar, He said: It is finished, and bowing His head, He gave up His spirit,' having nevertheless sent forth the aforementioned voice beforehand. It was, as is said, such a great and powerful cry that it was heard even down to hell, and it made heaven and earth tremble. This voice, therefore, was not natural but miraculous, because a man who has been struck by such great and long-lasting cruelty, and who is dying from such an affliction, couldn't shout like that by the strength of nature; and so it follows that that voice was formed by the power of God. Note here that at the same hour that the first Adam sinned, the second Adam expired. The first Adam sinned after midday, because he sinned at that hour. He heard the man walking at the hour after midday; and then, around that same hour, the second Adam breathed his last. Therefore, at the same hour that the first Adam brought death into this world by sinning, the second Adam destroyed death by dying. And at the hour when paradise was closed to him, he opened it at that same hour, because, according to Bede, the order of things required that at the very moment of time when he had closed the gate of paradise to the sinning Adam, he should open it to the repentant thief; and, according to the Gloss, when the sun was warmed by its heat, he finished his Passion, showing that he died for the sins by which we have fallen into this night, away from the divine light and love. He also died at this hour because through him the nine orders of angels are restored. It should also be noted that, as the Gloss on Tobias says, when the Lord suffered on the cross, the devil—at whose instigation he had been crucified—arrived, looking to see if he could find any sin in him. The master says in the histories that the devil stood above the arm of the cross until Christ breathed his last, and then, seeing himself confounded, he withdrew. Upon reaching the depths, he found the soul of Christ breaking down the gates and bolts and leading out the souls of the just. Then, the obstacle to the divine vision was soon removed, which the flaming sword placed before paradise had signified. It must be known, however, that among all the pains of Christ's Passion, this pain of death was the most bitter, because death is the most terrible of all terrible things. According to Damascene, this is because of the soul's natural inclination toward the body. There is a special reason in Christ for such a soul and such a body, as both were united to the Godhead in the unity of one Person; therefore, it was necessary that this separation be most painful. Seven lessons from Christ's expiration, his actions, his conformation, and his prayer. From this moment of Christ's expiration, or death, we draw many lessons. The first is that we must die with Christ by dying to the world and to sin. A. O eternal life, live in us. The Apostle says, 'If we have died with Christ, we shall also live with him.' And of such people, the same Apostle says, 'For you have died'—that is, to worldly and fleeting things—'and your life is hidden with Christ in God.' The second lesson is that Christ, in the agony of death, crying out with a loud voice to the Father and commending his spirit to him, left us an example of deep devotion. He, the good Master, teaches us what we ought to do when we are placed in the moment of temptation, and especially in the agony of death. For we must always place our help in God. We must pray, call upon Him, and entrust our spirits to Him, for our bodies are moving daily toward a death whose day and hour we completely ignore. We must do this especially in the hour and moment of death, because it's most necessary then, both because of the enemy's greater persistence and because of the weakening of our own strength. He also left us an example of perfect trust in the Father's protection; for by the very fact that a person entrusts their spirit into the hands of the heavenly Father, they ought to be secure that they are defended by divine power against the assault of evil spirits. The third lesson, especially for those in religious life who die to the world when they enter it, is that they must surrender their spirit—that is, their own will and judgment—into the hands of their spiritual father, their superior, in such a way that they don't take it back until the day of the Resurrection, following the example of Christ, who didn't take back the spirit He had entrusted to the Father's hands at His death until His own Resurrection. For by entrusting His spirit to God the Father, He left an example of perfect obedience and submission, by which any subordinate commits their spirit to their superior to be governed and directed. Therefore, any subordinate bound by a vow of obedience to a superior must humbly say to their superior: 'Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.' Those religious, then, who have never surrendered their spirit, or who take it back before the resurrection—that is, those who... ...wish to act according to their own will and follow their own judgment, are liars, and they anticipate the resurrection, and therefore they are antichrists. The fourth lesson is that it is very useful and healthy to read those ten psalms which Christ prayed on the cross, because there is no doubt that they confer a healthy effect of devotion upon the one who reads them. It's said that they are especially effective for making amends for the negligence with which the canonical hours were recited. The fifth lesson is that, no matter how just and holy people may be, they should never consider themselves secure from the devil, since he didn't even leave Christ on the cross alone, but kept watch over him. What, then, can a poor, fragile human being presume? Certainly, nothing except the death of Christ alone. Hence Augustine says: "My whole hope is in the death of my Lord." His death is my merit and my refuge, my salvation, my life, and my resurrection. I cannot be terrified by the multitude of my sins if the death of the Lord comes to mind, because my sins cannot overcome it. — The sixth. It is a lesson that we are bound to love Christ deeply, for He laid down His soul for us and bowed His head toward us in death. As Augustine says: "Our Savior bowed His head in death so that He might give kisses to those He loves." And we kiss the Lord whenever we are pierced by compunction in His love. The seventh lesson is that every dying Christian ought to keep those five things mentioned above as best they can, just as Christ kept them while He was dying. He prayed, cried out, wept, commended His soul to the Father, and gave up His spirit. So we, too, when we are at the point of death, must pray, cry out (at least in our hearts), weep for our sins through true repentance, commend our soul to God, and give up our spirit—that is, by dying willingly and by surrendering our will to the divine will. To conform himself to this point, let a man reflect on how much love our Savior had when He endured death to bring us to life; and that He, who gave life to all creatures, submitted to the condition of death; and that He, who raised the dead, died; and let him pray while turning these aforementioned lessons over in his mind. Jesus, who in dying on the cross commended Your soul to the Father: grant that in this life I may die to myself in You spiritually, so that at the hour of my death, You may deign to hold my wretched soul in Your care. Lord, I commend my spirit and my body into those hands of Yours—stretched out, pierced, and sprinkled with sacred blood. I beg Your charity that, in my final hour, I may be able to commend my soul into Your most merciful hands with a clear memory, pure faith, and firm hope—those hands which You stretched out on the cross to save me. May I deserve to hear that most sweet word: "Today you will be with me in Paradise." And then, when this voice was uttered, the veil of the temple—which was on the outside, before the face and entrance of the temple, blocking the view of the holy things that were inside—was torn in two from top to bottom, though not the veil that was inside the temple between the holy place and the holy of holies. This is why Origen says: "Two veils are understood to have existed: one that veiled the holy of holies, and another on the outside, whether of the tabernacle or of the temple." In the Passion of the Lord Savior, therefore, the veil that was on the outside was torn from top to bottom, so that from the beginning of the world to the end, with the veil torn away, the mysteries might be made public which, until the coming of Christ, had been reasonably kept hidden. But when that which is perfect has come, the second veil will also be taken away so that we may see even those things hidden inside—namely, the true Ark of the Testament—and see the Cherubim and other things as they are in their own nature, as Origen says. This sign signified that the mysteries and secrets of the sacraments of the Law, previously veiled, were revealed: so they might be made known to all and pass to the Gentiles; that the truth hidden in figures was fulfilled; and that heaven, which had been closed, was opened. This is why we, too, during the Passion of the Lord, uncover and reveal the crosses, relics, and other sacred things in the church. In the Gospel of the Nazarenes, it is written that the lintel of the temple, of infinite size, was broken, voices were heard in the air, and the angelic Virtues, the former guardians of the temple, cried out together: "Let us depart from these seats." But as Chrysostom says, this torn veil was most precious, woven of purple, fine linen, scarlet, gold, silk, and hyacinth, which was hung up on the most solemn days. The earth shook at this same voice, as if it couldn't bear its Lord hanging there or sustain the death of Christ—for it could not be a vessel for this dead One—and as a sign that the Jews were to be cast out and destroyed from it. The rocks split as a sign of the conversion of the Gentiles, and as a sign that hearts, no matter how hard, ought to feel compassion for Christ as He dies. It's said that the split is still visible there, and pilgrims point out their crosses; the monuments are shown to indicate that the gates of death were opened, that the resurrection of Christ and of those rising with Him was near, and as a sign of the resurrection expected at the end. And many bodies of those who had fallen asleep rose again. Specifically, at the hour of Christ; but when He rose, the signs of His Resurrection were there, and before, but when they were teaching in Christ, He went to Jerusalem and appeared to many, to the declaration of the Lord's Resurrection; whence Jerome says that when the monuments were opened, because the Firstborn of the dead was rising, He rose with them. For in the Apocalypse, Christ is called the firstborn of the dead, and in the Epistle to the Gentiles, the firstfruits of those who sleep. These things, however, are signs of great wonders, so that the crucified Lord might move heaven and earth. And all things that are in them are to be dissolved and changed. As Pope Leo says: "When the Creator hung upon the gibbet, all creation trembled." The world had to be shaken by this testimony so that, in his passing, all things might be made new. See how great a weakness appears now, where such great strength appeared before. So Anselm says: "And now, consider his state." Behold the wonder. He is here, because those who share in his suffering are also those whose dead bodies he brings to life. Therefore, consider the anguish! And although you may be a sinner, crucified, and impious, you are still not abandoned by God. Miracles do not cease. The abundance of virtue does not cease. Chrysostom says as much: 'Consider how many signs He performed—some from heaven, others in the temple itself—thereby showing His own abundance.' For the things God did were not just simple signs, but signs of fury that they would understand: the darkness, the splitting of the rocks, the opening of the graves, and the abundance of many afflictions—so says Chrysostom. Oh, how great was His pious mercy when He saw these things happen! As Augustine says: 'It is pleasing to consider what great sorrow was there, and how they grieved.' No tongue can speak of it, nor can any mind grasp it. With what sorrow the soul is then pierced—so says Augustine. The soul is brought to life and converted through these things. God truly cleanses the soul, and the veil of any sin is cast aside. For just as the veil once blocked access to the holy of holies, so too do sins block the view of paradise; yet this, as far as it is sufficient, has been removed by the death of Christ. The veil was a sign of what happened at the death of Christ. It was an obstacle that prevented the secrets of God from being revealed, just as the veil covered the sanctuary of the temple. The heart is moved. Through the recollection of sin and the fear of compunction, and when through compassion for the death of Christ, earthly desire is extinguished. For the earth trembled and was moved in horror at the ignominy of the death inflicted upon Christ, to signify that earthly hearts must suffer with the suffering Christ and cast off their attachment to worldly judgment. The fact that the earth trembled at the Resurrection signifies a special kind of triumph, in which every creature ought to rejoice with Christ as He rises, just as it also suffered with Christ in His death; the first tremor signifies fear and terror, while the second signifies joy and exultation. Stones are split by contrition and the pain of sorrow in the heart. As the hardness of the heart is worn away by the grace of compassion, the stones themselves are broken to signify that stony, hard hearts must be softened by the pain of contrition and by intimate compassion. The tomb is opened in confession, through the pain of confession in the mouth, and when the dead man who lies within is brought forth. The dead rise again in spiritual vivification, and through the satisfaction of good works, and when the sleep of sloth is shaken off for the sake of good works; and they rise in holy change, in the illumination of grace. In the darkness of the world, Lord, the veil of the temple is torn. I ask You, tear away the veil of ignorance from my heart, so that I may see Your truth and perform Your will. The earth trembles: I am dust, a creature who is earth, and I ought to stand before You with chaste reverence and offer my life to You with fear and trembling. The stones are split: grant me, Lord, that by Your heart the tremor may be known, and that the inner movement of Your contrition may be accepted. And may it bring forth for You the fruit of life; the tombs are opened, and many bodies of the saints who had slept have risen: grant, I ask, Lord, that my soul may rise from the sepulcher of sins. They saw these things that were happening—namely, so many and such marvelous signs during the Passion of Christ—among which was the fact that, crying out with a great voice, He died so quickly and of His own accord. The centurion in charge of the crucifixion, along with the soldiers stationed to guard Jesus on the cross until He died, were filled with fear. Attributing these many great miracles to divine power, they glorified God and, in a confession of faith, acknowledged the power and truth of Christ's divinity, saying, "Truly, this man was just." "Truly, this was the Son of God," for otherwise such glory would not have appeared in His death. . Matthew says, "Truly, this was the Son of God"; Mark says, "Truly, this man was the Son of God"; Luke says, "Truly, this man was just." Here rests the truth of His divinity, because He was truly the Son of God; here the truth of His humanity, because He was truly this man; and here the truth of His innocence and holiness, because He was truly just. These three things were necessary for redemption: a man who owed it, a God who could pay it, and a just person who could reconcile it. In these things, the crime of the Jews is aggravated, because God is killed by servants, a man by rabid beasts, and the just by the unjust. Indeed, it moved many of them toward faith in the divinity of Christ, because with such great terror He so powerfully and authoritatively gave up His spirit. They saw that that cry was supernatural and miraculous, because due to the loss of blood and the exhaustion of His spirits, such a cry could not have been made by a man so near to death; and therefore they concluded that it was done by supernatural divine power, and consequently that He was the Son of God. They also perceived this from the fact that when He willed it, He then gave up His spirit; for as Jerome says, no one has the power to give up his spirit except the One who is the Creator of souls; and, according to Augustine, when He gave up His spirit immediately after that cry, those who were present were especially amazed, for they were being tortured by a long death while hanging on the wood. Regarding this centurion, Bernard says: "That centurion was uncircumcised, but not in his heart; at the single cry of the dying Lord, he recognized the Lord of majesty despite so many signs of weakness. And so, he didn't despise what he saw, because he believed what he did not yet see." He didn't believe because of what he saw, but because of what he heard: for faith comes from hearing, and hearing comes through the word of Christ. And according to Chrysostom, the centurion—as some say—was not only a confessor, but also, strengthened in faith, he received the crown of martyrdom. The fact that the Gentile centurion confessed Christ so clearly signified the glorious confession of the Gentiles in their conversion, just as it signified the hardness of the Jews in their unbelief. Hence Jerome says: "The last are now becoming the first, because the Gentile people confess, while the blinded Jewish crowd denies, so that their last error may become worse than the first." Hence Bede also says: "How great, then, is the blindness of the Jews, who refused to believe even though the Lord performed such mighty works and such great signs appeared at his death, and who, being more insensitive than the Gentiles, disdained to glorify God even out of fear. Therefore, the faith of the Church is rightly signified by the centurion, who, with the veil of heavenly mysteries torn open by the Lord's death, immediately confirms Jesus as both truly a just man and truly the Son of God, while the synagogue remains silent." Hence Ambrose also says: "O hearts of the Jews, harder than stone!" The judge argues, the minister believes, the betrayer condemns his own crime by death, the elements flee, the earth shakes, the tombs are opened; yet the immovable hardness of the Jews remains, even as the world is shaken. Ambrose says: "Every creature sympathizes with Christ as he dies." Consider, then, you redeemed human, who and how great and what kind of person he is who hangs on the cross for you; whose passing the heavens and the earth mourn, and the hard stones are split as if in compassion, whose death brings the dead to life, and whom every creature confesses as its Lord. O human heart, harder than any stone: if you are not shaken by terror, moved by compassion, pierced by compunction, or softened by pity at the memory of such a great sacrifice! As Jerome says: "All creation suffers with Christ as He dies: the sun is darkened, the earth is shaken, the rocks are split, the veil of the temple is torn, the graves are opened; yet only miserable man does not suffer with Him, for whom alone Christ suffers." And Bernard says: "Christ ascended on high so that He might be seen by all; He cried out in a loud voice so that He might be heard by all; He mingled tears with His cry so that man might suffer with Him." Whoever isn't shaken by this voice is heavier than the earth, harder than a rock, and more foul than a grave—so says Bernard, regarding the sorrow of the women, especially the Blessed Virgin Mary. Present to accompany, contemplate, and suffer with the Mother of the Lord were John and Magdalene, and the two sisters of the Lady: Mary of Cleophas and Mary Salome. Besides these primary figures, many other women stood at a distance and watched. These women who were there, who had followed Him from Galilee out of the devotion they had for hearing His word, were ministering to Him the necessities of life from their own substance, so that He might reap their material things, just as they were reaping His spiritual things. It was the Jewish custom for women to provide food and clothing to their preachers and teachers from their own resources and to serve in other ways, such as preparing food and washing clothes. The Lord accepted this practice to set an example for the Apostles, considering their weakness and so they might be freer to attend to the Gospel. There was no scandal in this at the time; but Paul went further. Although he had the authority to be accompanied by women just as others did, he chose not to, because of false apostles, so that he might prevent them from preaching and remove any suspicion, especially among the Gentiles, where such a custom did not exist and could have caused scandal. They provided the Lord with physical things in exchange for spiritual ones—not that the Lord had any need of created things, but to set a pattern for teachers, showing that they should be content with food and clothing from their disciples. Chrysostom says: "These women were observing what was happening, for they were the most capable of compassion; and because they had followed Him and served Him, they stayed right through the danger, showing the greatest courage, for while the disciples fled, they remained." Oh, how the soul of the Mother was pierced then by the sword of deep sorrow, as she watched her suffering Son failing, languishing, weeping, crying out, and dying, and saw herself left alone in the world in such pain and anxiety! And how she cried out, if she could even speak, saying: "O my sweetest Son, what am I, most sorrowful, to do?" "To whom do you leave me, wretched and entrusted to your care? O my Son, remember me and all your family, whom you leave so desolate; remember also the people who have served you." "My Son, I entrust myself and our whole Church into your hands and the hands of your Father." "O holy Father, almighty God, into your hands I entrust my Son—or rather, my Lord and your Son." "For I am already failing, and I desire to die before my Son, in His sight." Saying such things, I believe that she was either overwhelmed by the multitude of her distress and became as if senseless, or was made half-dead; and because she could not hold herself up, she collapsed face-down upon the ground. No one could ever imagine or describe the depth of sorrow with which she sighed and grieved as He suffered and died, for she bore within her heart what the Son was enduring in His body. What, then, were John—the disciple He loved so specially—and Magdalene, that faithful and beloved follower, and the sisters of the Lord doing? But what could they do? They were filled with bitterness, overwhelmed by grief, intoxicated with wormwood, and they wept uncontrollably. O dearest one, think and consider with what pain and wailing all His friends were weeping, for even... those who had no connection to Him and seemed to have nothing in common with Him were grieving deeply—like the centurion and the other soldiers who had crucified Jesus and stood guard until He died. The whole crowd that had gathered to watch this spectacle was there, seeing what was happening, and they returned in silence, beating their breasts as a sign of repentance and mourning, grieving over the persecution of Christ. According to Bede, the fact that they beat their breasts—a sign of repentance and mourning—can be understood in two ways: either they were grieving for the One whose life they had loved but whom they had unjustly killed, or they were trembling because they realized that the One whose death they had brought about was now glorified in death. The first applies to the good, the second to the wicked. Join in their sorrow and weep, and you too, along with the women and others, if you have a godly soul and a heart of compassion. That is why Anselm says: The heavens are stunned, and the earth marvels. What about you? If the sun is darkened, aren't you saddened? If the earth trembles, don't you tremble? If the rocks are split, isn't your heart broken? If you weep alongside the women by the cross, you are weeping with them. Anselm says: Look, the Lord hangs dead on the cross; the whole crowd leaves, but the sorrowful Mother remains with John, Magdalene, and her two sisters. But what was the Mother doing? She was lifting her hands in the longing of her heart, wanting to touch her beloved so that she might in some way better attend to her grief and love. And since she had no other comfort, she kissed the steaming blood that was dripping from the wounds of her Son down to the ground with such great longing that her face was stained with the blood of her crucified Son. Augustine, among other things, says this: Near... Mary stood by the cross, considering with a gentle face Christ hanging on the wood of the cross, and straining on her tiptoes, she lifted her hands to embrace the cross and kiss him. She turned toward whatever part of the cross the stream of blood was soaking, so that she might be able to embrace it, since she could not reach up high enough to reach him. Lifting herself from the ground, she reached up toward Christ, and because she could not touch him, she collapsed back to the earth. The pallor of death had washed over his face, yet his cheeks and mouth were reddened by Christ's blood. She kissed the ground that the stream of blood was soaking, licking the drops of blood with her holy mouth. Oh, how wretched it was for her! These are the words of Augustine. Finally, they all stood near the cross, contemplating their loss and waiting for help from him, wondering how they might manage to take him down and bury him. As they stayed there, sitting near the cross and watching the Lord Jesus without pause—hanging there between the thieves, so naked, so disgraced, so afflicted, so dead, and so abandoned by everyone—behold, many armed men came from the city toward them, having obtained permission from Pilate, and were sent by... The Jews wanted the legs of those crucified to be broken so they would die more quickly and, once dead, be taken down from the crosses and buried, so they wouldn't remain hanging on the cross on the great Sabbath day—which began at sunset and was especially solemn because of the Sabbath itself and the feast of the Azymes. And they defiled the feast with the horror of the torture. The first day of the Passover, on which the Lord was crucified, was solemn among the Jews; yet the second day was even more solemn for them, because it was the Sabbath day, which... occurred within the octave. It was a double solemnity; they did this because it was commanded in the Law that the bodies of those hanged for their crimes shouldn't remain hanging until morning, so that the land wouldn't be defiled. Theophilus says: For thus it was commanded in the Law not to let the sun set on the execution of a man. But, according to Chrysostom, the Jews were indeed diligent in small things, but they were contemptuous in great things, and with... The ninth hour, during the Passion of the Lord. They had acted with such audacity, reasoning with such perversity—straining out the gnat but swallowing the camel. They approached with fury and great noise, and seeing the thieves were still alive, they broke their legs, killed them, and took them down, throwing them into a pit so they wouldn't cause a stench. The soldiers broke the legs of one thief and then the other, and in this way they came to... Jesus, who was in the middle. But when they returned to the side of Christ... They saw the Lord, and because they saw he was already dead... ... This is because He suffered more bitter punishments than the thieves. He endured [this], or perhaps because He was hung [on the cross] before the others, or because He had the power to lay down His own soul; they did not break His legs. For this was not done except for the purpose that He might escape. They could not be taken down from the cross, so that the Scripture might be fulfilled consecutively, where it is said in Exodus: 'You shall not break a bone of it'—namely, of the Paschal lamb, which prefigured the true Lamb of God, that is, Christ, who was already dead and cooked for the food of faith. For this reason, it was established by divine ordinance that the bones of the Paschal lamb should not be broken, because... The bones of the Lamb were not broken on the cross, so that the figure and the truth might correspond. But so that they might be certain of His death, one of the soldiers—at that time an impious and proud man, but later converted and made a martyr—reached out with a lance from a distance and opened the sacred side of the Lord Jesus, namely the right side, with a great wound, so that another Scripture might be fulfilled, where it is said through Zechariah: 'They shall look on Him whom they pierced'; in which prophecy, according to Augustine, Christ is promised in the flesh in which He was crucified. He is to come in the flesh. Note that this soldier acted to please the Jews, wanting to be certain of Christ's death; in this, their excessive cruelty is also evident, because they weren't satisfied with the punishments they had already inflicted on the living Christ, but even tried to wound him after he was dead. So, too, people today try to crucify Christ all over again. They wound him when they presume to sin without fear, or when they boast about their sin. Hence Theophilus says: 'To please the Jews, they pierce Christ with a lance, heaping insults upon his lifeless body.' And so Chrysostom says: 'They had opened his side with a lance, inflicting the rest upon his dead body.' For it was much worse to insult the body after it was dead than to crucify it. — But the one who pierced him—since his eyes were failing from old age, and by chance, or rather by divine prompting—pierced him, even though he didn't know it, and blood flowed out. As blood flowed from Christ through the lance wound, he looked at it, was immediately enlightened, and believed in Christ. From there, he gave up his military life, was instructed by the Apostles, and lived in Caesarea. He lived a monastic life in Cappadocia for thirty-eight years, and remaining in all holiness, he converted many to Christ by his word and example. Isidore also says of him: 'Longinus opened the side of the Savior with a lance, and not only did he find mercy, but he also earned the honor of the episcopate and the crown of martyrdom.' It wasn't enough for the Jews and others that they killed Christ; they even mocked him in various ways after his death. This was foreshadowed long ago in Absalom, who we read was left hanging in a tree; then Joab came and pierced his heart with three lances, and Joab’s armor-bearers brutally attacked him with their swords. So too was Christ on the cross pierced by the soldier’s lance, and furthermore by three lances—that is, by three sorrows: the first he had from the magnitude of his own sufferings; the second, from the bitterness of his beloved Mother; the third, for the sinners for whom he foresaw his Passion would not be profitable. And beyond this, the Jews attacked him with the sharpest swords of their tongues; in this way, all willful sinners attack Christ, who by sinning intentionally, crucify him again. Yet those who offend Christ now reigning in his divinity sin more grievously than those who crucified him while he walked among us in his humanity. But the insult inflicted by the Jews served as a sign, because blood and pure water flowed miraculously from His lifeless body. From this follows: And immediately there came out blood and water, from which the Church's Sacraments draw their efficacy. This happened to show that through Christ's Passion we obtain full cleansing from both sins and stains. We are cleansed from sins through the blood, which is the price of our redemption, as Peter says: You were redeemed not with corruptible gold and silver, but with the precious blood of Christ. We are cleansed from stains through the water, which is the bath of our regeneration, as Ezekiel says: I will pour clean water upon you, and you will be cleansed from all your impurities. Alternatively, the blood can be referred to the price and our redemption, so that we are redeemed from punishments; the water, however, to the bath and the cleansing of sins, so that we are purified from faults. For by the blood of the lamb, houses are saved from the Angel's strike; and by the water of the Red Sea, enemies are destroyed. It was poured out, I say: one for redemption, the other for the cleansing of the redeemed; one to redeem the captive, the other to wash the unclean. But this second sense is sufficiently understood in the first, because where there is full cleansing from sins, redemption from punishments also follows; and where there is cleansing from stains, purification from sins also precedes it. This event also fits the figure: just as blood and water flowed from the side of Christ sleeping on the cross, by which the Church is consecrated, so the woman—who prefigured the Church herself—was formed from the side of Adam sleeping in paradise. This happened miraculously; for blood does not usually flow from a dead man's body, where blood immediately coagulates and turns to decay because of the coldness of death, nor does pure water stream from anyone. That blood was true and pure, and the water was true and pure, and not, as some have said, a watery fluid or phlegm. Consider now how great the malice of the Jews was; they weren't satisfied with the punishments and insults inflicted upon Christ during his life, but even pursued him after he was dead. And although he didn't feel that wound in his side once his body was dead, insults and reproaches were still brought upon him through it, because any insult or cruelty inflicted upon a dead body is considered as if it were inflicted upon the living. There are three lessons from the piercing of Christ's side: action, conformity, and prayer. Three lessons are drawn from this account of his side being pierced. The first is that since we have died with Christ—that is, to the world and to sin—we must also be pierced with Christ, specifically with the spear of love; just as that soul boasted of being pierced when it said, 'I am wounded by love.' Augustine also asked that his heart be pierced by this spear of love, saying: 'I beg you, Lord, by those life-giving wounds of yours which you suffered for our salvation on the cross, from which that precious blood flowed by which we are redeemed, wound this sinful soul of mine, for which you even deigned to die; wound it with the fiery and most powerful dart of your most powerful love.' Pierce my heart with the dart of your love, so that my soul may say to you: 'I am wounded by your love,' in such a way that from that very wound of your love, abundant tears may flow day and night. Strike this hardened mind of mine, I beg you, Lord, with the powerful point of your love, so that it may penetrate more deeply into my inner self with your mighty power: these are the words of Augustine. The second lesson, according to Chrysostom, is that we ought to receive the Sacraments of the Church with such intention and devotion as if they were flowing directly from the side of Christ. For the wound in Christ's side was the gateway of the Sacraments; just as Eve was formed from the side of the first Adam, so the Church was formed from the side of the second Adam. Hence, the Evangelist used a watchful word, not saying that he struck or wounded his side, or anything else, but that he opened it, to suggest that in a certain way the gateway of life was opened there; for the Sacraments of the Church flowed from it, without which one cannot enter into true life. And note that this statement, that the Sacraments flowed from the side of Christ, is to be understood specifically of the two principal Sacraments without which one cannot enter into life: the Sacrament of redemption and the Sacrament of cleansing. The first of these pertains to the Sacrament of the Eucharist and is signified by the blood—indeed, it is the very same blood that we receive daily and which flowed from the side of Christ; the second, however, pertains to the Sacrament of Baptism, which is signified by the water. Hence the same Augustine says: 'That blood,' he says, 'was shed for the remission of sins; that water tempers the saving cup, and provides both a washing and a drink.' This prefigured the fact that Noah was commanded to make a door in the side of the ark, through which those animals were to enter that were not to perish in the flood, by which the Church was prefigured. Regarding this blood and water, the same Augustine says that it is believable that the thief to whom the Lord promised paradise was sprinkled with the water and blood that flowed from Christ’s side, and was saved by such a most holy Baptism; for without Baptism, or martyrdom, no one is saved. The third lesson is that we must conform our entire will to the divine will, and that God’s will must be acceptable to us in all things and above all things. This is because Christ’s heart was wounded by the wound of love for our sake, so that through a reciprocal love we might enter through the doorway of his side into his heart, and there unite all our love to his divine love, so that, like iron glowing in the fire, it may be forged into a single love. A person ought to ground and order all their desires in God through the love of Christ: because he was crucified for the sake of our feet, through which our affections are received; one should exercise oneself in all good works and avoid all evil works through the love of Christ, because he was crucified for the sake of our hands, through which our works are received; and one must truly conform one's entire will to the divine will, because of that wound of love which he received on the cross for humanity, when the arrow of invincible love pierced his honey-sweet heart. Augustine had entered through this wound as if through a doorway of love when he said: 'Longinus opened Christ’s side to me with a lance; and I have entered in, and there I rest secure.' The nails and the lance cry out to me that I am truly reconciled to Christ, if I have loved him. To conform oneself to this point, let a person remember what a most super-excellent love Christ showed us in the opening of his side, in which he gave us an open path to his heart. Let a person therefore hasten to enter into the heart of Christ, and gather up all their love and unite it to the divine love, by turning over these aforementioned lessons in their mind. Let a person also reflect on with what charity Christ poured out the Sacraments from his side for us, by which we might enter into eternal life; or otherwise, just as the Lord will provide devotion to the one meditating and praying. Jesus, you willed that the side of your dead body be opened by a lance, and that blood and water flow from it. I ask you to wound my heart with the lance of love, so that I may be made worthy of your Sacraments, which flowed from that same most sacred side; in the opening of your side, Lord, you opened the door of life to your chosen ones. The righteous will enter through this door of yours, Lord. Lord, I ask that you don't remember my iniquities, so that you might not close against me this entrance which you provided for sinners and those who repent. Blessed Mary the Virgin feels the wound in Christ's side. And although Christ did not feel this wound in his side because he was dead, his blessed Virgin Mother felt it deeply, for that cruel lance pierced her most happy soul at that moment. Then, fainting and as if dead, she fell to the ground into the arms of Magdalene. You see that as often as she died today, it was certainly as often as she saw this new suffering happening to her Son. Thus, the prophecy of Simeon was now perfectly fulfilled in her, by which he had said to her: 'A sword will pierce your own soul.' From this piercing of Christ’s heart—from whose hidden depths, as from a fountain, the price of our salvation was poured out in abundance—our own hearts are rightly wounded to feel with Him and to love Him, for here it was most clearly shown how abundant the redemption is that is found in Him. Bernard says: 'Finally, to complete His work of mercy, He gave up His soul to death and brought forth from His own side the price of satisfaction by which He reconciled the Father, and by which He drew the world entirely to Himself; for with the Lord there is mercy, and with Him is plenteous redemption.' It was truly abundant, for it wasn't just a drop, but a wave of blood that flowed out generously from the five parts of His body. And so Anselm says: 'Look even more closely at Him, and see how worthy He appears of such great and tender compassion.' See Him naked and torn by lashes, nailed in shame to the cross between thieves, given vinegar and gall to drink, and after death wounded in His side, pouring out copious streams of blood from the five wounds of His hands, feet, and side. Let your eyes shed tears, and let my soul melt with the fire of compassion over the suffering of this lovable man, whom you see afflicted with such great pain in such great gentleness. So says Anselm. He allowed five wounds to be inflicted upon Himself so that He might redeem the five senses of the human race that had been captured by the devil. Christ indeed shed His blood for us today most lovingly, most fully, and most painfully. He shed it most lovingly if you consider the cause, for the cause of the shedding of His precious blood was most loving, because He shed it out of the most fervent love with which He willingly chose to suffer for us. Augustine beautifully shows this in the person of Christ, saying: 'O man, reflect on what and how much I have suffered for you. When you were an enemy, I reconciled you to my Father; when you were wandering lost, I sought you, carried you on my shoulders, and restored you to my Father.' I offered my head to the thorns, I gave my hands to the nails, I poured out my blood for you, and I laid down my soul for you, so that I might join you to myself; yet you divide yourself from me. Turn back to me, and I will receive you. He poured it out completely, if you consider the measure, for he shed his entire blood, so that not a single drop remained in him. He shed the blood beneath his skin during the scourging; whatever blood he had in his crown and head was poured out in the piercing of the thorns; he shed the blood of his veins and nerves in the nailing of his hands and feet; but the blood that remained in his heart, or in his lower limbs, he poured out when his side was opened. And because no blood remained in him, he had no form or beauty.^✦ He shed it most bitterly, if you consider his nature; for the more noble and delicate a nature and constitution is, the more sensitive it is to pain, and consequently the suffering inflicted and the sensitivity to it are more bitter. It is certain that the constitution of Christ’s body was most delicate, because it was formed by the work of the Holy Spirit from the blood of the Virgin. Therefore, the shedding of his blood and the infliction of his sufferings were most bitter. And so he says: 'Look,' that is, mentally; 'and see,' that is, sensibly, 'if there is any pain like my pain.' As if he were saying:^✦ Rise, then, friend of Christ, and be like a dove nesting in the high opening of the rock; there, like a sparrow finding a home, never stop watching; there, like a turtledove, hide the chicks of your chaste love; there, press your mouth to draw waters from the fountains of the Savior, for this is the fountain flowing from the middle of paradise that waters the whole earth. Look at the opening in the side of the ark, where the animals that won't perish in the flood enter. Strive now to reach the openings of this rock and the cavern of the wall; on the day of your departure, run back to them and hide within them, so that you may find pasture there and escape the mouths of lions. Hence Anselm says: 'Hurry, do not delay; eat your honeycomb with your honey; drink your wine with your milk.' Blood is turned into wine for you, so that you may be inebriated; water is changed into milk, so that you may be nourished. Openings have been made for you in the rock, and wounds in his members; and in the wall of his body, a cavern, in which, hiding like a dove and kissing each one, your lips may become like a scarlet ribbon from his blood, and your speech sweet. Hence Gregory also says: 'Through the openings of the rock, I would gladly understand the wounds of the hands and feet of Christ hanging on the cross; but the cavern of the wall, I would say in the same sense, is the wound of his side, which was made by the lance. And it is well said to be in the openings of the rock and in the cavern of the wall, because while one imitates the patience of Christ in the remembrance of the cross, and while one brings those very wounds to mind for the sake of an example, just as a dove in the openings, so the simple soul finds nourishment in the wounds by which it may recover.' These are the words of Gregory. In these wounds of the Savior, you will also find security, protection, and no small consolation. Hence Bernard, taking certain things from the words of Augustine, says this: 'And in truth, where is there a safe and firm rest for the weak, except in the wounds of the Savior?' I dwell there all the more securely, the more powerful He is to save. The world may roar, the body may press in, and the devil may set his traps; yet I don't fall, for I am founded upon the firm rock. I have committed a great sin, my heart is scattered and distracted, and my conscience will be troubled; yet it won't be overwhelmed, because I will remember the wounds of the Lord. He was indeed wounded for our iniquities. What is so deadly that it isn't saved by the death of Christ? If, therefore, such a powerful and effective medicine comes to mind, I can no longer be terrified by the magnitude of any illness. I, for my part, confidently claim for myself what I lack from the very heart of the Lord; for His mercies abound, and there is no shortage of openings through which they may flow out. They pierced His hands and feet, and they opened His side with a lance; and through these fissures, it is permitted for me to suck honey from the rock and oil from the hardest stone—that is, to taste and see that the Lord is sweet. The secret of His heart is laid open through the wounds of His body; that great Sacrament of piety is laid open; the bowels of the mercy of our God are laid open, in which the Rising Sun from on high has visited us. Why should those bowels not be laid open through His wounds! For in what does it shine forth more clearly than in Your wounds, that You, Lord, are sweet and gentle, and full of mercy? ... No one has greater mercy and love than to lay down his life for his friends; yet You, Lord, had even greater love, for You laid down Your life for the hidden and the damned. Therefore, my merit is the mercy of the Lord. I am not entirely lacking in merit as long as He is not lacking in mercy; but if the Lord's mercies are many, I am nonetheless many in my faults. What does it matter if I am conscious of many sins? Indeed, where sins have abounded, grace has superabounded. And if the Lord's mercy is from eternity and unto eternity, I too will sing of the Lord's mercies forever. How great is the multitude of sweetness, the fullness of grace, and the perfection of virtues in the wounds of the Rock! Bernard says this. O Lord, just as your blood—our abundant redemption—poured out, do not let me perish with the wicked in the hour of my death or on the day of judgment; rather, gather me, redeemed by your holy blood, with your chosen ones, hiding me meanwhile in the clefts of the rock and in the hollow of the wall, and wounding me with your love so that I may languish for love. For whoever truly loves you is wounded and languishes for your sake, and until they see you, they are like one dead and a stranger to the world's affairs. Your love is as strong as death, and your zeal as hard as the grave, in the disposition of Christ's body placed upon the cross. Consider now, carefully, the disposition of Christ's body as it hung on the cross; for from this you will be caught up into greater hope and confidence, as Bernard himself testifies when he says: 'Who would not be caught up into hope and into confidence of obtaining, if they consider the disposition of his body?' See his head bowed for a kiss, his arms stretched out for an embrace. See his hands pierced to give freely, his side opened to love, his feet nailed to stay with us, his body extended to give himself entirely to us: so says Bernard. PRAYER: Lord Jesus Christ, who at the ninth hour of the day, hanging on the gibbet and crying out with a loud voice, commended your spirit into the hands of the Father, and bowing your head, breathed out that same spirit, and already dead, received the wound in your side from the soldier's lance: I ask that you deign, now and always, to keep my spirit commended to you, to pierce my heart with the sword of love, to imprint the wounds of your body upon it, and through these, to repel illicit thoughts from it, and finally, at the end of my life, to place my spirit, commended into your hands, with the blessed spirits. Amen.