Twelfth Day. the Crucifixion
The way of the cross is ended, and they have come to Calvary. They have stripped Jesus of His garments, and have laid Him on the hard bed of the cross. Now commences the dreadful work of nailing His blessed hands and feet to the cross. The right hand is nailed to the cross first, but through some mistake the left hand will not reach; then a fearful scene takes place. The brutal soldiers pull with all their force, until, dislocating the arm, they succeed in stretching the hand to its place. Picture Mary looking in mute agony on that dreadful scene! His legs are stretched out, one foot crossed upon the other, and through them the nail is driven. Now the cross is raised on high, and Jesus hangs upon it. In the past few moments Mary has suffered a world of woe. The sacrifice of the Mother was inseparable from that of the Son; it would have cost her much less to have given her own life, and for this reason she is justly styled the Queen of martyrs. The first hour of the three long hours of agony has passed; still Jesus is silent. The second hour begins. There are fewer persons around the cross; all is silent, and then His lips move. Mary listens with all her heart: “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” Beautiful, beautiful prayer—true of all sins and of all sinners—“they know not what they do.” Beautiful prayer also because it discloses the heart of a God. For God alone could teach such charity as this, and Mary, joining her Son in His prayer, looks up to heaven and repeats, “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” The third hour begins, and His first word in this last hour goes through her very soul: “I thirst.” Well might He thirst. Since the night before nothing has crossed His lips, and Mary, His Mother, is unable to give Him a drink to cool them, parched and swollen as they are; she cannot even reach to wipe away the blood that has congealed there. Thus for three long hours she watches Him in His death-agony, unable to afford Him the slightest alleviation; until at last He cries out with a loud voice, “Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.” And bowing His head, Jesus dies. Such were the sufferings endured by the Mother of that divine Son. Jesus dies for love of us, and we live to torture and crucify Him afresh. What sublime lessons Mary here gives us, and how perfectly is she the model of those souls whom God permits to be sorely tried in affliction! Their trials are great, but are they to be compared with hers? Ah, do not complain, but to enable you to endure your sufferings cast your eyes on this sorrowful Mother, and ask her to obtain for you grace to imitate her firmness, her constancy, and her generosity. After Jesus on the cross, the most beautiful book one can study is Mary at the foot of the cross.
Prayer.
O most tender Mother, it was I that covered thy divine Son with wounds, and put Him to death! It was I that pierced thy heart with the most bitter sword of grief! Oh, by those wounds and by that blood, by thy sorrows and by thy tears, I conjure thee, O Mary, to be my protectress and my advocate. Pray for me, and for all sinners like me, that so many precious sufferings may not become useless to us. Amen.