Salesian Literature

 

12.  The Passion of Our Lord and what it means

Sermon for Good Friday, March 25, 1622, concerning the brass serpent which saved the Israelites, the sinlessness of Christ, the manner in which He redeemed us, the two natures of Christ and our three "natures," Our Lord as Saviour, how our salvation comes from looking upon our Saviour, Our Lord's seven last words, His prayer for forgiveness for those crucifying Him, His pardon of the good thief and of St. Peter, and the bad thief's and Judas' damnation; the danger of damnation and how we should both fear and hope, Our Lord's confiding of Our Lady and St. John to each other, the darkness on Good Friday, Our Lord's great sorrow over those who would not profit from His Passion, His feeling of abandonment by His Father, His thirst, His obedience in remaining on the Cross and how we should imitate Him, the Cross as the one way of salvation, and Our Lord's perfect commending of Himself into His Father's hands and how we should do likewise, making no reservations.

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''Jesus Nazarenus, Rex Judaeorum—Jesus the Nazarene, the King of the Jews.'—Jn.   19:19 

 

Since there are only a few hours in which to speak of the Passion by which we have all been redeemed, I will take for my subject only the words of the title that Pilate had inscribed on the Cross: Jesus the Nazarene, the King of the Jews. In this title are implied all the causes of this divine Passion. They can be reduced to two, and these two are signified by the words: Jesus the Nazarene, the King of the Jews. The Latin for this phrase has four words. They do not, however, indicate four causes; His death has only two causes, as we shall see.

 

"Jesus" means "Saviour!" [Matt. 1:21]. Now, He died because He was Saviour: to save us it was necessary for Him to die. He was a Nazarene. This word means "flourishing," that is, holy and innocent, without stain or blight of sin, but flourishing with all sorts of virtues and perfections.

 

"King of the Jews" means that He is both Saviour and King. "Jews" signifies confessing: He is King, then, but only of the Jews, that is, only of those who confess Him [cf. Rom. 10:9-10]; and to redeem those who confess Him, He died. Yes, He truly died, and death on a Cross. [Phil. 2:8].

 

Here, then, are the causes of the death of Jesus Christ: the first is that He was Saviour, holy, and King; the second, that He wished to redeem those who acknowledge Him, which is what the word "Jews" means that Pilate had written on the standard of the Cross.

 

The Old Testament taught us this truth by many figures and images, particularly that of the brass serpent that Moses erected on the pole to protect the Israelites from serpent bites. You know the whole story, I am sure, and how it happened. [Num. 21:6-9]. When God withdrew His people from slavery in Egypt to lead them to the Promised Land under the command of that great captain, Moses, a strange misfortune occurred. Small serpents came out from the earth and overran the desert where the poor Israelites were. Their bite, though apparently not very painful, was certainly very dangerous. It was so venomous that all those bitten would surely have died if, in His goodness and infinite Providence, God had not provided a remedy.

 

Moved by the sight of this pitiable misfortune, Moses spoke to God and asked for some remedy against it. The Lord commanded him to make a brass serpent and to place it on a tall pole, promising that those bitten by the small serpents would be cured by gazing upon it. Moses promptly did this, enjoining those bitten to cast their eyes on the brass serpent mounted on the pole. Those who did so were immediately cured. Those unwilling to gaze upon it died, for there was no other means of escaping death than that which was ordained by God Himself. "Oh! how good was the God of Israel" [Ps. 72 (73):!, said a great saint, "to provide Moses with such a remedy for his people's cure!"

 

I pray you to notice how well this incident symbolizes the cause or motivation of Our Lord's death. These children of Israel, withdrawn from slavery to Egypt, stand for the entire human race, whom God had preserved from sin and placed in the promised land of the earthly paradise, where He had established us in original justice. But in paradise a terrible thing took place: small serpents arose, and stung us in the persons of our first parents, Adam and Eve. The companions and accomplices of him who had stung our first parents so overran the desert, which is this world, that we would all surely have been bitten. I say all, because no creature can think himself exempt from such a bite, that is, from original and actual sin: Original Sin in the person of our first parents, and actual sin in our own person. If anyone says that he has been preserved from it he is certainly a liar. Indeed, as the great Apostle writes, if anyone thinks he is without sin, do not believe him, for iniquity reigns in him. [Rom. 3:23; 5:12, 18; 1 Jn. 1:8-10].

 

I know of course that the sacred Virgin, Our Lady, was never bitten by this infernal serpent, since it is quite clear and manifest that she was without sin, either original or actual.[1] She was privileged and preferred above all other creatures, with so great and unique a privilege that no one, whatsoever, has ever received grace comparable to this holy Lady and glorious Mistress. No one has ever dared, and no one will ever dare to claim or to aspire to so unique and special a privilege. This grace was due only to her who was destined from all eternity to be the Mother of God.

 

This exception does not in any way lessen our assertion that all have been bitten by the serpent. Now this bite was so venomous that we would all have died an eternal death if God in His infinite goodness had not provided against such a great misfortune. He did this admirably, moved to do so by no other motive than His pure and immense mercy. Therefore He ordained that His Son should die and Himself be that serpent placed on the pole of the Cross to be gazed upon by all who are bitten and sullied by sin. [Jn. 3:14-16]. Writing to the Galatians (and I never read these words without trembling and being seized with terror), the great Apos­tle said that the Son of God, who knew no sin or iniquity, died for our redemption. [Gal. 3:13; cf. 2 Cor. 5:21; 1 Ptr. 3:18].

 

It is certainly true that He was sinless; moreover, He could not sin, for He was equal to the Father in everything. His was the same nature, substance and power. It was therefore utterly impossible for Him to sin. Although He is all-powerful, and can consequently do all He pleases, yet He cannot sin; He is nevertheless still all-powerful, for to be able to sin is not power, but powerlessness. He died for our sins without Himself having committed any iniquity. He was, as the notice on the Cross says, a Nazarene, one flourishing in all holiness. Nor was He a serpent, actually or figuratively, except to cure us from the stings of the true serpent. Because of His great love for us He burdened Himself with our sins, with our miseries and weaknesses [Is. 53:4ff];[2] He clothed Himself with our plumage and shell. In short, He became this serpent placed on the wood of the Cross to preserve from death and give life to all who would gaze upon Him. From Heaven He brought us Redemption, and, not only that, He Himself was our Redemption. [1 Cor. 1:30]. "Oh! how good is the God of Israel" [Ps. 72 (73):!] to have provided humankind with such a precious Redemption! [Ps. 129 (130):7-8]. Without it we would surely all have been lost. Without this God-given remedy, all, without any exception whatsoever, would have died, since all had sinned.

 

But could God not have provided the world with a remedy other than that of His Son's death? Certainly, He could have done so, and by a thousand other means. Could He not have pardoned human nature with absolute power and pure mercy, not invoking justice or the intervention of any creature? Doubtless He could, and who would have dared to question or criticize Him? No one, for He is Sovereign Master and can do all He wills. Besides, if He had wanted some creature to undertake our redemption, could He not have created one of such excellence and dignity that, by its deeds or sufferings, it could have satisfied for all our sins? Assuredly, and He could have redeemed us in a thousand other ways than that of His Son's death. But He did not will to do so, for what may have been sufficient for our salvation was not sufficient for His love; and to show us how much He loved us, this divine Son died the crudest and most ignominious of deaths, that of the Cross.

 

The implication in all this is clear: since He died of love for us, we also should die of love for Him; or, if we cannot die of love, at least we should live for Him alone.[3] [2 Cor. 5:14-15]. If we do not love Him and live for Him, we shall be the most disloyal, unfaithful and wretched creatures imaginable. Such disloyalty is what the great St. Augustine complained about. "O Lord," he said, "is it possible for man to know that You died for him and for him not to live for You?" And that great lover, St. Francis, sobbed, "Ah! You have died of love and no one loves You!"[4]

 

He died, then. But although He died for us and was lifted up on the Cross, those who refuse to look upon Him will surely die, for there is no other redemption but in this Cross. O God, how spiritually beneficial and profitable is a consideration of Your Cross and Passion! Can we contemplate our Saviour's humility on the Cross without becoming humble and having some affection for humiliations? Can we see His obedience without being obedient? Certainly not! No one has ever looked upon Our Lord crucified and remained dead or sick. On the other hand, all who have died have done so because they were unwilling to gaze upon Him, just as the Israelites died who were unwilling to gaze upon the serpent that Moses had raised upon the pole.

 

The fall of our first father and mother in the earthly paradise was another figure of this truth. God had given them many fruits to preserve their life; but there was one, the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which they were forbidden to eat under pain of death. They could therefore die or not die. They would die if they broke God's command, and not die if they kept it. But a terrible thing happened. The infernal serpent knew that they had this power of dying or of not dying, and determined to tempt them and to make them lose the Original Justice with which God had endowed and enriched them, by persuading them to eat the forbidden fruit. To accomplish this more easily, he took the scales and form of a serpent and tempted Eve. Surely, even if her heart had been flattered by this infernal spirit's words and even if, as a result, she had looked at or touched the fruit of the tree of knowledge—and indeed, even if she had picked it and offered it to Adam, her husband, they would not have died. For God had said only: if you eat of it, you will die. Thus, it was only in eating the forbidden fruit that Adam and Eve would die [Gen. 2:16-17; 3:1-6] and lose the life they could nevertheless have preserved if neither had actually consumed that fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

 

Our Lord had two natures, human and divine. As God, He could not die. Further, He could neither suffer nor die, for God is impassible and immortal. And just as He could never sin, He also could never die, for, like sinning, dying is a lack of power. Even as man He could die or not die; for although it is a general law that all men die [Heb. 9:27], nevertheless He could have been exempted from that law because there was no sin in Him. Remember, it is sin that gave death entrance. [Rom. 5:12]. But Our Lord never chose to avail Himself of this privilege, and so took a passible and mortal body. He became incarnate in order to be Saviour. He chose to save us by suffering and dying, and to take on Himself, in His sacred humanity, and in strictest justice, what we had merited because of our iniquities. He was so one in His divine and human natures that even though He suffered only in His humanity and not in His divinity, which is impassible, nevertheless, when one sees the manner in which He suffered, one cannot tell, so to speak, if it was God or man who suffered, so admirable are the virtues He practiced.

 

Even though he suffered nothing as God, yet His divinity united with His humanity gave such price, value and merit to these sufferings that the smallest tear, the smallest movement of His Sacred Heart, the smallest loving sigh was more meritorious, more precious and more pleasing to God than would have been all imaginable torments of body and spirit— more pleasing even than the torments of Hell—endured by creatures endowed with the greatest perfection. I will say even more: all the pains in a hundred thousand million Hells suffered with the greatest perfection possible to a human creature would have been nothing compared to the smallest sigh of Our Lord, to the smallest drop of the blood that He shed for love of us. For it is His divine Person, infinitely excellent and infinitely worthy, that gives price and value to such actions and sufferings. Yet His divinity is so united with His humanity that we can truly say God suffered death,[5] death on a Cross [Phil. 2:8], to redeem us and give us life.

 

Now we have, so to speak, three natures or three kinds of life, one of which is negative. The negative one we received in the person of our first father, Adam. In that one we could have either died or not died. While in the earthly paradise where the tree of life was, we could, by eating its fruit, have prevented our dying, providing that we kept from the forbidden fruit, as God had ordained. By keeping that command­ment we would not have died at all, even though we would not always have remained in this life either. We would have passed to another, a better one. In our French language "death" means "passing over" from one life to the other.[6] To die is therefore to pass beyond the confines of this mortal life to the immortal. It is true that, had we not sinned, we would never have died this bodily death as we now do, but we would nevertheless have passed over to the other life. And when it pleased the Divine Majesty to withdraw us, He would have done so, either in a chariot of fire like Elias [4 Kgs. (2 Kgs.) 2:11] or in some other way pleasing to Him. It is obvious that we were also capable of dying, as we now do die, by eating the forbidden fruit, as our first mother, Eve, did.

 

Since Adam's sin, we possess and live the second nature. With this nature we die and can never not die, for it is now a general law that all must die. Since God pronounced the sentence of death against man, there never has been and never will be anyone who will not die. No human creature whatever can be exempted from death. We all have been soiled by original and actual sin;[7] we all shall die. [Rom. 5:12]. Once our sinless Lord took on our sins, He too died, as all of us sinners shall surely die.

 

We will possess our third nature only in Heaven, if God mercifully enables us to arrive there. In Heaven we shall live and not be able to die, for we shall enjoy eternal glory, life that was purchased for us by our Saviour's death. We shall possess it securely, without fear of losing it. Our Lord came as Saviour to save us all from dying. For His death acquired for us that life in which we shall never die, the life of glory.

 

Thus, it was by divine inspiration that Pilate inscribed on the Cross, "Jesus the Nazarene, the King of the Jews." It was His vocation to be Saviour. For this reason the Eternal Father gave many indications of His saving mission to men, not only from the patriarchs and prophets, but also from Himself. Indeed, strange though it seems, He even used the mouth of the impious and the most criminal, as we shall see presently, to make clear that saving mission. Finally, for this same purpose, the angel descended from Heaven to announce to the sacred Virgin the mystery of the Incarnation, telling her that He whom she would conceive would be called "Jesus," or "Saviour." [Lk. 1:26-31].

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God the Father Himself spoke of this saving mission when Our Lord was baptized by St. John the Baptist in the River Jordan; then they hear His voice: "This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. [Matt. 3:16-17]. Listen to Him." |cf. Matt. 17:5; Lk. 9:35]. As if He meant: "O poor people, you had so angered Me by your vices and iniquities that I had resolved to destroy and ruin you all. But see, I am sending My Son to reconcile you with Me, for all My delight is to look at and consider Him; and in this look I find so much pleasure that I forget all the displeasure that I receive from your sins. Therefore, listen to Him." In this word He shows that He sent Him to teach us how to "save" ourselves. "Ah, never doubt His doctrine," He wished to say, "for He is Truth itself. [Jn. 14:6]. Therefore, listen to Him carefully. His doctrine is all divine: and if you practice and follow it, it will lead you to eternal life."

 

Another such testimony was given on Mt. Tabor on the day of the Transfiguration, when they again heard the voice of the Eternal Father, who said: This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to Him. [Matt. 17:5; Lk. 9:35; 2 Ptr. 1:17]. But what will Christ say to you from I his mountain? Surely, He will say nothing to you on this occasion, since He is speaking to His heavenly Father and with Moses and Elias of the suffering and death He is about to accomplish in Jerusalem. [Lk. 9:30-31]. You will see the glory of the Transfiguration, but like the three Apostles, you will be forbidden to report what you see. [Matt. 17:9]. But on Mt. Calvary, you will hear lamentations, sighs and prayers made for the remission of your sins; you will hear the words of this great doctrine of the Redemption, and you will never be forbidden to speak of what you see there. Quite the contrary, you will be commanded to speak of it and never to lose the memory of it.

 

Notice how eager God is to reveal the real truth of His Son's vocation. Pilate declared time and time again that Our Lord was innocent, and though he condemned Him, he knew that He was not guilty of any accusation brought against Him. [Matt. 27:18, 24; Lk. 23:14, 22; Jn. 18:38; 19:4-6]. Further, did not God pronounce through the high priest Caiphas—the most miserable, unfaithful, treacherous and disloyal man who ever lived—this great truth: that it was better to have one Man die so that all might be saved? [Jn. 11:49-50]. God went out of His way to show that His Son was truly Saviour and that it was necessary for Him to die to save us. He even revealed this truth through the most detestable high priest who ever lived on the earth.

 

Caiphas said it, but he did not understand that he was prophesying. Yet the Lord wished to make him a prophet on that occasion, since he was then occupying the chair of the great high priest [Jn. 11:51]. Certainly most of the people knew that our Divine Master was innocent. Though they asked that He be crucified, it was because of the chief priests. For you know that when a sedition arises in a city, the mob, rightly or wrongly, takes the side of those in power. Without knowing what he was doing, Pilate had it written on the Cross: Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews; and no matter what people said, he refused to remove it or to change its wording [Jn. 19:19, 22], for it was God's will that it should express the two causes of His Son's death.

 

Now, since God's Son was crucified for us, what remains for us at this hour but to crucify with Him our flesh with its passions and desires. [2 Cor. 5:15; Gal. 5:24]. For love is repaid with love alone. This is what we had to say about the second cause: by rendering Our Lord love for love and the praises and blessings we owe Him for His Death and Passion, we will be confessing Him as our Liberator and Saviour.

 

Here, where I always speak freely and frankly, I must tell you what happened to me once when I was about to preach on the Passion of Jesus Christ in one of the most famous cities of France. I needed some appropriate symbol to describe my subject more clearly. Not finding any elsewhere, I found one in a book which told of a bird which was placed on earth—I have always since thought, only as a figure of the Passion.[8] What I am going to tell you is the most wonderful and appropriate symbol to show clearly that Our Lord died for our sins. When I found this symbol, I considered it an inspiration from God, and have ever since believed it so.

 

This symbol, then, is the bird called the oriole in French and icterus in Latin. This bird is entirely yellow, but not because of jaundice. It has this special property: from a treetop, it cures those afflicted with serious jaundice, always at the expense of its own life. When the jaundiced person and this bird exchange glances, the oriole, as it were, so pities man, his good friend, that he draws to himself the man's jaundice. Then the bird's whole body turns completely yellow. His wings, which were already yellow, become more so; then his stomach, feet, all his feathers, and his little body. Meanwhile man, his great friend, becomes white, clean and completely cured. This poor bird then flies away, sighing and singing a song pitifully loving for the delight he experiences in dying to save his human friend. A truly admirable phenomenon! This bird is never afflicted with jaundice, yet he dies of it when curing a man so afflicted. Indeed, it takes pleasure in dying to save him.

 

Our Lord is certainly this divine Bird of Paradise, the divine Oriole, attached to the tree of the Cross to save and deliver us from the serious jaundice of sin. To be cured, however, man must look at Him on this Cross in order to move Him to pity. Then He draws to Himself all the iniquities of man and dies freely for him. If the jaundiced man does not look at the oriole, he will remain ill. Similarly, if the sinner does not look at Our Lord crucified, he will never be freed from his sins. But if he does look upon Him, the Saviour will make Himself responsible for his sins. Though our Saviour was innocent, He died for our iniquities. Indeed, lie died with a holy joy at our cure, even though this was at the cost of His own life.

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This truth is recognized in the words our Divine Master spoke on the Cross and in His loving tears and sighs. To say a word to you on these last words, I shall gladly take another half hour. Besides, the Office is not yet over in the other churches. The first word, then, that Our Lord pro­nounced on the Cross was a prayer for those who were crucify­ing Him. It was of this that St. Paul wrote: In the days when He was in the flesh He offered sacrifices to His heavenly Father. [Heb. 5:7].

 

Certainly, those who were crucifying our divine Saviour did not know Him. And how could they have known Him, since the majority of those who were present did not even understand His language? (At that time all sorts of peoples and nations were in Jerusalem, and all had gathered, it seems, to torment Him.) But not one knew Him, for if they had known Him, they would never have crucified Him. [Acts 3:17; 1 Cor. 2:8]. When Our Lord saw the ignorance and weak­ness of those who were tormenting Him, He excused them and offered for them this sacrifice to His heavenly Father, for prayer is a sacrifice. It is the sacrifice of our lips and our heart[9] [Ps. 26 (27):6; 115 (116):17; Heb. 13:15] which we present to God as much for our neighbor as for our­selves. Therefore, Our Lord made use of it by saying to His Father: Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. [Lk. 23:34].

 

Oh, how great was the flame of love that burned in the heart of our gentle Saviour, since at the height of His suffer­ings, at a time when the vehemence of His torments seemed to take from Him even the power of praying for Himself, He succeeded through the strength of His charity in forget­ting Himself but not His creatures, and with a strong and intelligible voice uttered these words: Father, forgive them. With this prayer He wanted to make us understand the love He bore us, undiminished by any suffering, and to teach us how our heart should be toward our neighbor.

 

But, my God, what burning charity this was, and how powerful a prayer it must have been! Indeed, Our Lord's prayers were so efficacious and so meritorious that His Fa­ther could refuse Him nothing. For this reason, as the great Apostle says, He was heard, because of the reverence that the Father bore Him. [Heb. 5:7]. It is true that the heavenly Father bore great reverence toward this Son, who as God was equal to Him and the Holy Spirit, being with Him one substance, wisdom, power, goodness and infinite immensity. That is why, looking at Him as His Word, the Father could refuse Him nothing. Now, since this divine Lord asked par­don for us, it is entirely certain that His request was granted. His divine Father honored Him too much to deny Him any request.

 

He was heard, therefore, not only because of the reverence the Father bore Him, but also because of the reverence He bore His Father and with which He prayed. Such reciprocal reverence as that borne between these two divine Persons is beyond imagination or human comprehension. When two equally great and powerful kings meet for discussion, they vie in honoring and respecting each other by consenting most promptly and absolutely to any request. Thus it is between the Eternal Father and His Son Our Lord, for both are equal in dignity, excellence and perfection.

 

Jesus Christ prayed thus to His Father—but with what rever­ence! Certainly, the sacred Virgin Our Lady surpassed all other creatures in the humility and respect with which she prayed and communicated with her God. All the saints prayed with great reverence. The pillars of the heavens tremble [Job 26:11]; the highest seraphim quiver and veil themselves with their wings for the honor they bear the Divine Majesty [Is. 6:2]. Yet all this humility, all this honor, all this reverence that the Virgin, the saints, all the angels and the seraphim render to God are nothing in comparison with that of Our Lord. For this reason we must never doubt that the prayers made with such great and admirable reverence, and by a Per­son of infinite merit and perfection, were granted at once. Therefore, if all who crucified Him did not receive the par­don the Saviour had asked for them, it was not His fault, as we shall show.

 

Our Lord's second word promised Paradise to the good thief. In this word, He began to hymn a different air. Whereas previously He had prayed, and prayed for sinners, now He shows that He is Redeemer. Having pardoned sins, He allows the good thief to partake even now of the fruits of the Redemp­tion. He was crucified between two thieves, wicked men, traitors and robbers [Matt. 27:38; Jn. 19:18], one of whom blasphemed Him. The other acknowledged His innocence: "Ah, Lord, I know very well that You are not at all guilty, hut I indeed deserve to be attached to this cross for my sins and crimes. For this reason I beg You to remember me when You come into Your Kingdom." [Luke 23:39-42].

 

On this subject I must say something that I have not yet said here, although I believe I have spoken of it elsewhere. During Our Lord's Passion, two great events occurred which were related to the two kinds of sinners who tormented Him grievously. There were two of each type of sinner: two Apos­tles and two thieves. St. Peter, one of the Apostles, wronged his Master greatly by denying Him and swearing that he did not know Him. As if that were not enough, he cursed and blasphemed Him, protesting that he did not know who He was. [Matt. 26:69-74]. That pierced Our Lord's heart! Alas, poor St. Peter, what are you doing; what are you saying? You do not know who He is? You are not associated with Him—you who were called with His own mouth to be an Apostle? [Matt. 4:18-19]. You yourself confessed that He was the Son of the living God! [Matt. 16:16]. Miserable man, how dare you deny knowing Him? Is this not the One who a short while ago was at your feet washing them, and feeding you with His Body and Blood? [Jn. 13:6]. And you declare that you are not associated with Him! Oh, how can the earth bear you? Why does it not open up and swallow you in the deepest of Hells?

 

The second Apostle was of course Judas, who miserably sold his Master, and at so vile a price. [Matt. 26:15]. O God, my dear Sisters, how terrible and appalling are the falls of God's servants, especially of those who have received great graces.[10] What greater grace could there be than that given to St. Peter and Judas? Like Peter, Judas too had been called to be an Apostle by Our Lord Himself, who preferred him to so many millions of others who would have done marvels in this ministry. The Saviour bestowed special favors upon him. Besides giving him the gift of miracles, He also fore­told to him his betrayal [Matt. 26:21-25; Jn. 13:18-27] so that, being forewarned, he might avoid it. Knowing that he was attracted to dealing with and managing affairs [Jn. 12:6; 13:29], He made him procurator in His sacred college. He did this to gain his heart entirely and to omit nothing that could ren­der him more devoted to His Divine Majesty. Nevertheless, this miserable Judas abused all these graces and sold his good Master.

 

How frightful and dangerous are the falls from the moun­tains! As soon as one begins to fall, one rolls inexorably to the very bottom of the precipice. Such have been the falls of several who fell away from the service of God. Frighten­ing, indeed, that after a good beginning, even after having lived thirty or forty years in this holy service, in old age, when it is time to reap, one flings himself into the abyss and loses all. Such was the misfortune of Solomon, whose salvation is very doubtful, and of several others who deserted the right path in their last years.

 

What a miserable old age that is! How fearful a thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God! [Heb. 10:31]. How inscrutable His judgments! [Rom. 11:33]. Let anyone who is standing be fearful lest he fall, says the Apostle [1 Cor. 10:12]; let no one glory in finding himself expressly called by God to a place where there seems nothing to fear. Let no one presume on his good works and think he has nothing more to fear. St. Peter, who had received so many graces, who had promised to accompany Our Lord to prison and even to death itself [Lk. 22:33], denied Him nevertheless at the whimpering taunt of a chambermaid. Judas sold Him for such a small sum of money.

 

These falls were both very great, but there was this differ­ence. One acknowledged his guilt; the other despaired. Yet, our Saviour had inspired in the heart of both the same Pec-cavi ("I have sinned"), that same Peccavi that God inspired in David's heart. [2 Kgs. (2 Sm.) 12:13]. Yes, He inspired it in both Apostles, but one rejected it and the other accepted it. Hearing the cock crow, St. Peter remembered what he had done and the word his good Master had spoken to him. Then, acknowledging his sin, he went out and wept so bitterly [Matt. 26:74-75; Lk. 22:61-62] that he received what we today call a plenary indulgence and full remission of all his sins. O happy St. Peter! By such contrition for your sins you received a full pardon for such great disloyalty!

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But notice also, I pray you, that St. Peter did not become converted at all until he had heard the cock crow, as Our Lord had foretold it to him. In this one can see his remarka­ble submission to the means designated for his conversion. Certainly, I know that it was our Saviour's sacred glances that penetrated Peter's heart and opened his eyes to recognize his sin. [Lk. 22:61-62]. Nevertheless, the Evangelist tells us that he went out to weep over his sin when the cock crowed \Matt. 26:74-75], not when Our Lord looked at him.

 

From this time on, St. Peter never ceased weeping, prin­cipally when he heard the cock crow at night and morning, for he remembered this crowing as the signal for his conver­sion. It is also reported that he shed so many tears that they hollowed his cheeks into two furrows. With these tears he who had been a great sinner became a great saint. "O glori­ous St. Peter, how happy you are to have done such great penance for such great disloyalty. By it you were reinstated in grace. You who deserved eternal death became worthy of eternal life." Not only that, but St. Peter received here below special favors and privileges and was lavished with blessings on earth and in Heaven.

 

On the other hand, although Judas received the same inspi­ration for the same Peccavi, he rejected it and despaired. I know that efficacious and sufficient grace differ, as the­ologians say, but I am not here to prove and dispute whether Judas' inspiration of Peccavi was as efficacious as David's, or only sufficient. It was certainly sufficient.[11] This Peccavi sent to the heart of Judas was truly like that formerly sent to David. Why then was Judas not converted?

 

O miserable man! He saw the gravity of his crime and despaired. Truly, he confessed his sin, for in returning to the chief priests the thirty pieces of silver for which he had sold his good Master, he acknowledged aloud that he had sold innocent blood. [Matt. 27:3-5]. But these priests would give him no absolution. Alas, did not this unhappy man know that Our Lord alone could give it to him, that He was the Saviour and held Redemption in His hands? Had he not seen this truth clearly in those whose sins Jesus had remitted? Certainly, he knew it, but he did not wish nor dare to ask pardon. To make him despair, the devil showed him the enor­mity and hideousness of his crime and perhaps made him fear that if he asked his Master's pardon, He might impose too great a penance. Perhaps for fear of such penance, he was unwilling to ask for forgiveness. Thus, despairing, he hanged himself; and his body burst wide open, all his en­trails spilling out [Acts 1:18], and he was buried in the deepest of Hells. These two Apostles represent the first kind of sinner.

 

In the second kind, we see the two thieves who were cruci­fied with Our Lord, most evil of men who had never done any good. They were among the most criminal, perfidious and notorious robbers to be found. They were chosen to be placed on either side of our dear Saviour in order, by this means, to declare Him the master of all thieves. [Lk. 23:32-33]. One of these evil men turned toward Jesus and confessed Him to be innocent, while acknowledging that he was a sin­ner deserving the cross. Then he asked His pardon, which he received so absolutely that Our Lord promised him that he would that very day enter into Paradise with Him. [Lk. 23:39-43].

 

Strange! two robbers were crucified with our Saviour and both received the inspiration of the Peccavi; yet only one was converted. Certainly, neither had ever done any good, and the good thief had been one of the most vicious of rob­bers to be found; still, at the end of his life he looked at the Cross, found redemption there and was saved. His salvation was immediate, for Our Lord had promised that whoever looked upon His Cross, no matter how sinful he might be, even if he did so only at the end of his life, as did the good thief, would receive salvation, [cf. Jn. 3:14-17; 12:32]. But the other thief, even though he too was beside the sweet Jesus, was there in vain. For he would not look upon the Cross. Despite the many inspirations he received, despite the drops of this divine Blood with which he was sprinkled, despite our dear Saviour's frequent secret and loving promptings to look upon this sacred wood and at the mystic Serpent at­tached to it, so as to obtain his cure, he was unwilling to do so. Because of his refusal, he obstinately died in his sin and was miserably lost.

 

Here, then, my dear Sisters, are the two kinds of sinner— which should make us live in great fear and trembling [Ps. 2:11; Phil. 2:12], but also in great hope and confidence, be­cause of these two kinds, one was saved and one damned. From the first kind one was saved, the glorious St. Peter, and one damned, Judas—both Apostles of Our Lord. Cer­tainly, there are souls who fail even after having served God for a long time, and even after having attained the mountain of perfection. "We have seen," says the great St. Augustine, "stars falling from Heaven," who afterward became obstinate and died without repenting. Others, who fall in the same manner after having received equal graces, yet repent like St. Peter. What great reason for fear and hope! There are also some who have never done any good and who, at the end of their life, find pardon and mercy, while others perse­vere in their iniquities.

 

O God! With how much humility and spiritual abasement ought we to live on this earth! But also what great reason to anchor our hope and confidence completely in Our Lord! For if even after having committed sins such as denying Him, persevering and spending one's life in horrible crimes and iniquities, one can find forgiveness when one returns to the Cross to which our Redemption [1 Cor. 1:30] is attached, why should a sinner of either kind fear in life and in death to return to his God? Will he still listen to that evil spirit who tries to convince him that his faults are unpardonable? Ah, let him answer boldly that his God died for all [2 Cor. 5:15], and that those who look upon the Cross, no matter how sinful they are, will find salvation and redemption.

 

What may we not hope for from this Redemption, which is so plenteous [Ps. 129 (130):?] that it overflows from all sides? Let us consider that now. O God, how often our di­vine Saviour offered it to Judas and to the bad thief! With what patience He waited for both! What did this dear Saviour's Sacred Heart not do for Judas? How many impulses and se­cret inspirations He gave him, both at the Supper when He was on His knees before him, washing his feet, and in the Garden of Olives, when He embraced and kissed him [Matt. 26:49-50]; and along the road; and in the house of Caiphas, where Judas, that unhappy man, went to confess his crime. But he was unwilling either to ask pardon or to hope to re­ceive it.

 

What did this same Saviour's Heart not do for the bad thief all the while He was on the Cross? How often did He look at him, inviting him to return His look, permitting His Precious Blood to fall on him that it might soften and purify his soul! Alas! In refusing salvation, did this miserable man not deserve that God should hurl him instantly into Hell? But He did not do that; rather, He waited for his repentance until he expired. Therefore, if Our Lord so liberally remits such great and enormous sins—indeed, if He offers pardon even to the obstinate and waits for their repentance with such patience [Rom. 2:4], O God! what will He not do for him who asks it of Him, and with what heart will He not receive the contrite penitent.

 

Our Lord's third word was one of consolation. He spoke it to His sacred Mother who was at the foot of the Cross, pierced by a sword [Lk. 2:35] of sorrow, but certainly not swooning nor with faint heart, as artists have falsely and im­pertinently painted her. The Evangelist clearly says the con­trary, insisting that she remained standing with an incomparable firmness.[12] [Jn. 19:25]. That courage did not keep her from the grieving which she endured with the generous and mag­nanimous heart belonging to her alone. O God! what agonies were hers! They are inexplicable and inconceivable. Her heart was crucified with the same nails that crucified Our Lord's body, for now she would be without both Child and husband.

 

Seeing her in this distress, our dear Saviour said a word of consolation to her. But this consoling and tender word was not given to lift her heart from such great desolation. The heart of this perfectly submissive and resigned holy Vir­gin needed to be extremely strong, and Our Lord, who knew her so well, dealt with her accordingly.[13] Indicating St. John, His Heart's beloved disciple, He said: Woman, there is your son.  [Jn.   19:26]. He gave him to her to care for her, for this holy Virgin was not thinking of herself at all. Her every thought was centered around her divine Son's sorrows, sor­rows that she herself pondered in her soul [cf. Lk. 2:35, 51] while at the foot of His Cross. But her dear Child, about lo die, knew that as widow and alone, she would not know where to go, so He wished to provide for her in her desola­tion by giving her, as the most precious thing He could leave her when dying, His disciple as son. For John was the disci­ple whom He loved [Jn. 13:23; 19:26; 21:7, 20], and in whom He inspired a true son's love for His Mother. With this love he would care for her with even greater solicitude.

 

As He was dying He rejoiced to leave, as pledge of His love, the sacred Virgin as Mother to St. John, and to His holy Mother, the disciple of His Heart as son. Dying men who want to favor their children or heirs tell them something like: "Go to such a cupboard; you will find there so many thousand crowns." And mothers near death glory in saying lo their daughters, "Go to such a chest; you will find the dress in which I was married, still perfectly new; you will also find there my chains and rings that I have saved for you, and other jewelry." Perhaps this seems nothing but folly and nonsense. Yet they take pride in being able to bequeath such things when they are near death. But our dear Saviour left nothing like that to St. John and to His Mother. He left a far greater treasure.

 

True, Our Lady sorrowed at the time. After all, what com­parison would there be between Our Lord and His disciple? She nevertheless docilely accepted John with a gentle and tranquil heart. Her divine Son in turn gave her a more tender love for St. John than all mothers together ever had or would have toward their children. This sacred Virgin knew that Our Lord, in giving her St. John for son, was giving her as Mother to all Christians as children of grace, for "John" means grace. She loved this holy Apostle with great love, but not in the same way she loved her divine Son. Him she loved not only as her Son, but also as her God. What great love that Vir­gin's most holy heart had for that of Our Lord! Since her love for Him was measureless, the pain in leaving Him and in seeing Him die, the pain of being deprived of His bodily presence, was unspeakable.

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I do not think I ever pointed out before that as soon as the Saviour gave His Mother and the disciple to one another, the sun withdrew its light and darkness was over the whole earth. [Matt. 27:45; Lk. 23:44-45]. So thick was that dark­ness that it was terrifying. Theologians dispute about whether this darkness covered all the earth or only a part of it; I have often seen both opinions. They also question whether this eclipse was natural or supernatural, and whether or not the sun behaved as normal. This is hardly the time for set­tling that dispute.

 

Personally, I agree with those who hold that darkness was over the whole earth, for the great St. Denis the Areopagite, who was then in Egypt, mentions it, and several historians do as well. There is no doubt at all that this eclipse was supernatural and that in it the sun suffered no change. The eclipse occurred at high noon and when the moon was full. St. Denis, who only later was converted by the preaching of the great Apostle St. Paul and came here as the Apostle of France, wrote that at the time he saw only two possible meanings in this prodigy: "Either the God of nature is suffering, or the end of the world is approaching." He went on: "This eclipse is entirely supernatural, since it is occurring both at high noon and during the full moon. Besides, it is lasting longer than ordinary eclipses (three whole hours)." Certainly, he spoke the truth. Darkness fell because the God of nature was suffering in Jerusalem.

 

What was Our Lord doing during those three hours? He was offering sacrifices of praise. It was particularly during those hours that He did what St. Paul wrote: He prayed, Me lamented, He complained with strong cries in the days when He was in the flesh [Heb. 5:7]; that is, during those three hours He complained to His Father, He wept and cried, trying to move all hearts to repentance. O God! how many loving tears He shed during those three hours of meditation, how many sighs and sobs! How many and what kinds of pains pierced through the Sacred Heart of my Saviour! No one can imagine but He who suffered them, and perhaps the sacred Virgin Our Lady, who was standing at the foot of the Cross. To her He communicated them, and she pon­dered them within her heart.

 

Since I have spoken with you several times on this subject I will mention now only what I feel to be the greatest sorrow the Sacred Heart of Our Lord then endured: the ingratitude of those Christians who, scorning His Death and not profit­ing from His painful and sorrowful Passion, were lost be­cause they were unwilling to take advantage of it. But these particular sorrows were known only to Him who suffered them and to His holy Mother, to whom He communicated them. But wanting to make known to everyone that He really was suffering, He cried out in a loud voice to His Eternal Father so that He was heard by all: My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me? [Matt. 27:46; Ps. 21 (22):!].

 

This was the fourth word Our Lord uttered on the tree of the Cross. O God, how great was His most holy soul's anguish in being forsaken not only by all creatures, but also by the Eternal Father, who for a time had withdrawn His lace from His beloved Son! [cf. Ps. 131:10]. He did not, of course, suffer this privation in the superior part of His soul, for it always enjoyed the clear vision of the Divinity, and thus of beatitude, from the first instant of its creation. It was never deprived of that glory. But the inferior part was bereft of all human and divine aid. It was deprived of all consolation, experiencing bodily and spiritual pains with all the bitterness and rigor imaginable. So He cried out: "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" that all might understand the vehement pain He was then enduring.

 

But, alas! the misunderstanding of these words was a fur­ther pain to Our Lord. [Matt. 27:47-49; Mk. 15:35-36]. Some thought He was praying to Elias. These were almost Chris­tians in that they already had some disposition to receive grace, since they believed in the invocation of the saints. Elias had died many years before—at least he was not-of this world, but had been carried off in a fiery chariot by angels. [4 Kgs. (2 Kgs.) 2:11]. They thought that, in His great affliction, our dear Master was calling Elias to His aid. They believed, then, that Elias could help Him. There were others who said: He is invoking Elias, but what can he do? He cannot deliver Him. These were evil people who did not believe that the saints can do anything for those who are afflicted, nor for those who invoke them. Therefore they were like today's Huguenots be­cause they denied the power of the saints before the Divine Majesty.[14] The rest, laughing, said: See how He is calling aloud on Elias for help; now let us wait and see, I pray you, whether Elias comes to His rescue. They said this to mock Him. Others murmured among themselves: If He is as holy as they say, let Him save Himself. He saved so many others [Matt. 27:40-42; Mk. 15:29-32]; He is a fool if He does not do for Himself what He has done for others. During those three hours our good Saviour suffered all possible injuries and calumnies.

 

They also made the most attractive suggestions and offers for Him to prove Himself. For example, some cried to Him [Matt. 27:40-42; Mk. 15:29-32]: "You boast of being God's Son; come down then from that Cross and we will adore You and acknowledge You as such. You have said that You would destroy the temple. All right, then, perform some mira­cle for Your deliverance, and we will acknowledge You as our God. Yes, if on Your own power You can come down from that Cross we all will believe in You. Otherwise we shall consider You an evil man. We will neither believe in You nor be converted." What an offer to the Heart of our gentle Saviour, which was so aflame with desire for our sal­vation! Several blasphemed against Him, calling Him a sor­cerer and enchanter, attributing this darkness to some magic trick; others said that it was not darkness, but their eyes were blinded and dazzled by His spells. From such as these, Our Lord's most Sacred Heart suffered incomparable torments.

 

Knowing that a multitude would be lost and would take no profit from the Redemption of the Cross and be saved, He pronounced the fifth word, one of complaint and lamen­tation: Sitio—'I thirst." [Jn. 19:28]. This word can mean His bodily thirst caused by the extreme torments He had suffered all night. It was so great a dehydration that it burned and consumed His lungs and would certainly have killed Him if God had not reserved for Him greater sufferings. Never was hart, pursued by dogs and huntsmen, so parched and desirous of coming upon a fountain of fresh water as was our Saviour in His bodily thirst. Therefore, with good reason He said: I thirst.

 

Yet, this was nothing compared to the spiritual thirst which oppressed His soul. With an insatiable ardor He desired that everyone be converted at the price of His Passion. Seeing how many souls would not, He cried out: I thirst! He also knew that some would ask for a means other than that of His Passion for salvation, as did for instance this crowd, which cried out for Him to descend from the Cross so they could believe in Him. They seemed to say to our blessed Saviour: "If You are so athirst for our salvation, come down from that Cross and we will believe in You. Thus You will be able to slake Your thirst." So infinitely did Our Lord desire our salvation that He offered to die for us. [Is. 53:10-12]. Yet, He did not want to descend from the Cross, because such was not His Father's will. Rather, it was that will that kept Him attached to this wood.

 

Miserable people, what do you mean by asking our dear Saviour and Master to descend from this gibbet? He will certainly not do so, for as St. Paul says, He humbled Him­self, obediently accepting even death, death on a Cross. He mounted the Cross through obedience and died on it through obedience. All those who are willing to be saved through the Cross will find salvation there. But those who desire to be saved without it will perish miserably. There is no salva­tion except in this Cross. "Ah, miserable ones," says our Saviour, "you are asking Me to descend from this wood that you may believe in Me; you want a means of redemption other than the one My Father has ordained from all eternity, one foretold by so many prophets and announced by so many figures. You intend then to be saved according to your will and not as God wills. That is not right, and for it you will die obstinate in your sins [Jn. 8:21, 24], and you will not find any pardon; even though the pool is prepared for you, you refuse to cast yourself into it. [cf. Jn. 5:4]. Redemption is open and so abundant that it overflows on all sides, yet you do not wish to wash yourself in it!" [cf. Zach. 13:1].

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