I would like to follow up on Ken Clerk’s reflection. In this difficult time, I have found prayer a vital part of my day. Because of the isolation imposed, I have found contemplative prayer to be a great help. (In my early years of Lay ministry, a member of the congregation suggested to me that I should try to avoid big words). Contemplative is a big word that describes personal time with God. There are many methods of doing this; one I find amazing involves a link to the scriptures. Take a story of Jesus’ such as the journey to the cross. Imagine you are actually there; the people, the noise and the atmosphere.
Recently I have discovered various fictional writers who have taken that step of imagination. For example;
“When we heard that Jesus had been arrested, I went with Mary to help her through this terrible time. She had a premonition that something bad was going to happen. I don’t know how she knew, but I’ve learned to trust her instincts. I hope this won’t end badly, but standing outside the governor’s palace, we can hear the words, “Crucify him!” My blood runs cold, and I can feel Mary stagger and sag into my arms.
I don’t understand. How can this be happening? I have come to accept that Jesus is the Messiah. I know without a doubt that he is a good man and a great son to Mary. How can he be sentenced to death? My heart is breaking for Mary and for our family.
We follow along as Jesus makes the long climb up to Golgotha with his cross. He looks so frail and weak now! He will never make it. The Roman soldiers finally realize this and force someone from the crowd to help Jesus carry the cross. Each time Jesus falls, I hear a groan from the crowd. There are a few hecklers, but mostly it’s silent. I hold tightly onto Mary and help her make her way through the crowd. I have to stop and wipe away my tears; my sight is getting blurry, and I’m afraid I will fall myself. I focus on Jesus’ face as we walk on. The blood from his crown of thorns is running down his face, into his eyes, but he looks as if he’s someplace else, like he is ignoring the pain. I try not to weep. I want to be strong for Mary and for the others with us.
We make it to the top, and I hear a ripping noise. It is the sound of fresh scabs being torn away as they strip Jesus of his garments. Tearing away the cloth that stuck to his back reopens the whip marks, and the wounds are bleeding freely again.
Mary turns her face into my shoulder as the soldiers nail Jesus to the cross. Every time I hear the metallic clang of hammer striking nail, it pierces my own heart. Jesus makes no sound. My stomach is flopping around, and I fight the urge to vomit. The soldiers nail the other two men, and soon all three are hanging, struggling to breathe”.
To read the full reflection, go to https://www.ignatianspirituality.com/an-imaginative-reflection-on-the-crucifixion/
Father Lord let us understand the sacrifice Jesus your Son, made for us. Help us not to turn away from the images, but to see the truth. Father God we are all on a journey that involves difficulty and danger, we are so thankful that you are with us at all times. Give us the peace to be able to talk to you and also to listen to you. In Jesus’ name. Amen
David Bell
