A short contemplation for your Holy Week. I want to share with you some statues of Jesus’ Passion and death that I have come across during my short time in Spain. Below are the images (and a song) with the reflections they have evoked. Have a blessed Holy Week and Easter!
“Are you the King of the Jews?”
“Do you say this on your own or have others told you about Me?” (Jn 18: 33.34)
“Who do people say that I am? …Who do you say that I am?” (Lk 9:18,20)
I am free, I am intelligent. So who is moving me? Me or the crowd? At the end, my life, my heart will be face to face with Him alone, and He will see me, the deepest motivations of my heart. I have the chance now to look at Him and answer for myself. See how His hands are in the process of embracing the Cross with so much intentionality.
“Everyone who makes himself a king opposes Caesar. We have no king but Caesar!” (Jn 19:12)
“Crucify him!” “Shall I crucify your King?” (Jn 19:15)
“Appoint for us a king to govern us like all the nations… ‘Listen to the voice of the people in all they say to you; for they have not rejected you, but have rejected me from being King over them.” (1 Sm 8: 5-7)
There is always a little battle inside over who has control and how I treat whoever has “reign” over me. The real King, the only true ruler lets me decide; He doesn’t impose His reign over me- but the attitudes and choices of my heart do have consequences for me and others.
“My Kingdom does not belong to this world…my Kingdom is not here.” (Jn 19: 36)
“Jesus, remember me when You come into Your Kingdom.” “Truly I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise.” (Lk 23: 42,43)
When all the people who had gathered for this spectacle saw what had happened they returned home beating their breasts, while His acquaintances stood at a distance.” (Lk 23: 48-49)
In a way its normal to be a spectator. To feel an emotion, to weep, to feel guilty- but its altogether different to be involved. I too have beat my breast and then gone home, where things are a bit more comfortable and less exposing, back to normal; making the events of the Passion a spectacle in my life, outside of me, as I stand at a distance and watch.
But now, in His great and everlasting mercy, I have another chance, a renewed grace to convert, to offer the fullness of myself while leaving all visible results in His hands.
I can follow Our Lady and Joseph of Arimathea to the tomb and adore Him; prepare His Body and my heart with the perfume of adoration and the spices of conversion and love.
Original song by Josep Asuncion
Adoraré tus pies heridos, tus pies de mensajero, que traen la paz, que traen la paz a mi corazón.
Yo adoraré, Señor, y abrazaré tu cuerpo herido. Yo adoraré, Señor, y abrazaré tu cruz, tu humanidad, tu humanidad.
Adoraré tus rodillas, que soportaron mis caídas. y se doblaron, y se doblaron ante mí.
Adoraré tus manos suaves y las heridas que las traspasan Con ellas me alzaste y me abrazaste en mi seol.
Adoraré tu rostro herido, tu semblante sin hermosura. Y en cada espina de tu cabeza veré a mi Dios.
Abrazaré fuerte tu pecho y escucharé tus latidos, y de la herida de tu costado yo beberé.
Loose translation: (its nicer in Spanish. I suggest just listening and letting your heart understand what is being said).
I adore Your wounded feet, your feet of a Messenger, that bring peace, that bring peace to my heart.
I adore, Lord, and I embrace your wounded Body. I adore, Lord, and I embrace Your Cross, your humanity, your humanity.
I adore Your knees, that endured my falls, and bend, and bend to me.
I adore Your gentle hands and the wounds that pierced through, with them you lifted me and embraced me in my Sheol.
I adore Your wounded face, Your face without beauty. And in every thorn in your Head, I see my God.
I strongly embrace Your chest and listen to Your heartbeats, and from the wound in Your side I will drink.