St. Paul in the Garden of Gethsamene

In an earlier post I looked at the Epistle of James’ revolutionary teaching on the value of suffering. In this article we want to build upon those insights, seeing how closely St. Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” paralleled the Lord Jesus’s experience in Gethsemane (2 Cor 12:7-10). Take a moment to unpack this with me, because it ties directly into our own experiences of suffering.

In Gethsemane we see Jesus as we’ve never seen him before. He collapsed to the ground and cried through tears, “Abba, Father, all things are possible to you; remove this chalice from me; yet not what I will, but what you will” (Mark 14:35–36; Heb. 5:7). Mark’s Gospel tells us that Jesus repeated this prayer three separate times. “Sorrow” pushed him to the point of death (Mark 14:34). Jesus had stepped into the place of sinners, taking, as it were, the weight of our sins upon his shoulders. He witnessed every betrayal, slander, rape, and murder from history’s dawn until its end and offered the Father all the sorrow and contrition that mankind should feel, but does not. He offered the Father the love of which those sins robbed Him. An angel was sent, not to whisk Jesus away but strengthen him so that his body and soul could endure more than humanly possible. The Son learned what it was to put one foot in front of the other in painful obedience; and his Passion redeemed us. The Epistle to the Hebrews goes so far as to say that Jesus was “made perfect” by this obedient acceptance of suffering (Heb 5:8-9). It was the means by which his humanity was “perfected” (teleioō  in Greek, “completed,” or “brought to fullness”); the “indestructible life” of the Resurrection was reached by way of the Cross (Heb 7:16).

Now look at Paul’s account of his “thorn in the flesh.” Although Paul does not spell out the difficulty, a number of commentators suggest a chronic physical ailment. Whatever its nature it must have been a source of great pain for Paul to have characterized it as “a messenger of satan meant to buffet me and keep me from becoming puffed up” (2 Cor. 12:7). Paul petitioned the Lord to remove the thorn – not once, but three separate times. And like Jesus’ three petitions, Paul’s were not met with a cessation of pain but an infusion of strength – and not from an angel, but Jesus himself. The Lord spoke to him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” This revelation led Paul to say, “I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor 12:9-10).

Saint Paul reveals another element of the mystery: Not only can suffering be redemptive for us personally, but the grace we receive at such moments spills over to other members of Christ’s mystical body. Many Christians are unacquainted with this belief, but it is grounded in Scripture and Tradition. From prison Paul wrote the Colossians, “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church” (Col. 1:24). First, let us be clear that Paul was not placing a limit on the redemptive scope of Christ’s Passion. Paul held Jesus’s sacrifice to be absolutely sufficient. Christ, and he alone, has redeemed us from the guilt of our sins and united us to the Father. Second, we have also seen Paul’s conviction that we must suffer with Christ if we are to be raised with him (Rom 8:16–17) and that it is in times of suffering that Christ imparts additional grace to the soul and advances us toward final justification (2 Cor 12:9; Phil 3:10–12; Acts 14:22).

These two truths harmonize to explain how Paul’s sufferings could benefit the Colossians: Christ’s obedience in suffering paid the eternal debt of sin and won redemption for the human race. United to him, the sufferings of his Church are a divinely ordained means for appropriating the grace of redemption. Grace descends not just upon the individual bearing his or her suffering, but upon other Christians. That is what Paul communicated, in a shorthand way, when he told the Colossians that he rejoiced in the sufferings he underwent for their sake. This is but another facet of Paul’s well-known teaching that Christ and the Church form one mystical person, wherein each member enriches the others (1 Cor 12:12–27; Eph 4:11–16).

Jesus is the redeemer, and baptism unites us to him. He lives in us, and we live in him. This makes it possible for our sufferings to be drawn into his and offered to the Father. It is a mystery analogous to that of the Eucharist: Christ presents us to the Father, “This is my Body, this is my Blood.” If Christ’s obedience while suffering the Passion merited the redemption of our race, then his suffering in us—the trustful surrender to the Father that he produces in our souls—can merit the application of redemptive graces to our brothers and sisters. The Redeemer makes the sufferings of his members redemptive. This teaching in no way denies Christ’s position as the sole mediator between God and man. As members of his body, we Christians intercede from “within” him (1 Tim 2:1–5). The thought that we play a role in others’ salvation may seem scandalous to some, but it is thoroughly biblical. Did not God make the world’s salvation dependent upon the preaching of the apostles? They extended Christ’s teaching ministry beyond the borders of Israel: “we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us” (2 Cor 5:20; cf. Rom 10:14; 1 Tim 4:16; Jude 22–23). If the Church can participate in this aspect of Christ’s redeeming work, then why not his work of suffering?

Christ unites our earthly sufferings to his and transmutes them into spiritual sacrifices. The Father accepts such sacrifices and reciprocates with unmatched generosity: “[give, and it will be given to you; good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be put into your lap” (Lk 6:38). All of this explains why Paul could rejoice in his experience of Gethsamene: it was a priestly offering, supernaturally valuable, and beneficial for his brothers and sisters.

This article was adapted from James: Jewish Roots: Catholic Fruits (Angelico Press, 2021).

Judas' Greatest Sin Was NOT His Betrayal of Christ

Love receiving emails from Daily Gospel.  I have to share the commentary it paired with the reading from Matthew, focusing on Judas' betrayal.  St. Catherine of Siena (1347-1380 A.D.) recorded these words in her Dialogue, words she believed were spoken to her by God the Father:

Saint Catherine heard God say to her: This is the sin that is never forgiven, now or ever: the refusal, the scorning of my mercy. For this offends me more than all the other sins they have committed. So the despair of Judas displeased me more and was a greater insult to my Son than his betrayal had been. Therefore, such as these are reproved for this false judgment of considering their sin to be greater than my mercy... They are reproved also for their injustice in grieving more for their own plight than for having offended me. 

They are being unjust in this because they are not giving me what is mine, nor taking for themselves what belongs to them. It is their duty to offer love and bitter heartfelt contrition in my presence for the sins they have committed against me. But they have done the opposite. They have lavished such tender love on themselves and felt so sorry about the punishment they expect for their sins! So you see how unjust they are. They will be punished, therefore, on both accounts. They have scorned my mercy, so I turn them over to my justice.

Powerful words to keep in mind as we begin the Novena to Divine Mercy on Good Friday!

I remember hearing Archbishop Fulton Sheen contrast the actions of Judas and Peter.  Both betrayed the Lord.  Both wept for their sins.  But where Peter opened himself to God to receive mercy and forgiveness, Judas turned inward on himself and took his life in despair.  The great tragedy is that, had Judas turned to God as Peter did, we would know him as Saint Judas.

Rosary Mysteries for Holy Thursday

My admiration of the Rosary as a form of prayer is no secret. I use it on a daily basis. For most of the year I pray the Mysteries usually associated with a given day of the week (Joyful Mysteries on Monday & Saturday, Sorrowful on Tuesday & Friday, Glorious on Wednesday & Sunday, and Luminous on Thursday), but at special times of the year such as Christmas, Holy Week, and Easter, I like to use the Rosary to unpack and meditate upon these events more in depth. 

On my drive into work this morning I was thinking about the events of Holy Thursday and how we could use five decades of the Rosary to join Mary in uniting our hearts to Jesus’s on this night. I recommend stopping to read Scripture at the beginning of each Mystery and then softly praying the Hail Mary as you visualize and go over what you have read in your mind:

The Washing of the Apostles Feet – John 13:1-20

The Institution of the Eucharist – Luke 22:14-22

Jesus’s “High Priestly” Prayer – John 17:1-26

His prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane –  Mark 14:32-42

The arrival of Judas and Jesus’s arrest -  Luke 22:47-53

Walking the Chaplet of Divine Mercy

Divine Mercy Chaplet made at Etsy.com

Today I am trapped inside by the frigid temps, but last weekend I was able to get out for a five mile walk; and with both spring and Lent just around the corner I wanted to suggest a method of prayer. 

Now, on a five mile walk there is plenty of time to pray the Rosary and Chaplet of Divine Mercy - and the latter, multiple times.  I often find it hard to focus during the Chaplet, but last weekend I found two different ways of praying it that, combined with the physicality of walking, held my attention. 

Each of the fifty times I prayed, "For the sake of His sorrowful Passion have mercy on us and on the whole world," I imagined:

1. Our Lord receiving one more blow from the whip
2. Jesus taking one more agonizing step under the weight of the Cross

Prayed while walking at a good clip - breathing a little heavier, with ankles a bit sore - it kept my focus on Jesus' pain, and how little my discomfort is in comparison ... and then I went ahead and united my little discomfort to His Passion.

How Could Jesus Say, "My Burden is Light"?

"Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."  (Matthew 11:28-30)

I have read those words many times over the past 25 years, but they really caught my attention the other night.  "What do you mean Lord?  How could Your yoke be easy and your burden light?  You had the weight of the entire world on your shoulders ... What is Your 'yoke'?  Is it Your Cross, the Cross that we are supposed to take up and follow after You?"

And then I started to think about what was most important to Jesus.  His total focus, in everything He did, was pleasing His Father.  Yes, ultimately that meant accepting the Cross onto His shoulders; but doing the will of the Father was the yoke He bore every day of His life.  And He didn't consider it a burden.  (Rather, He spoke of it as being energizing.)  Jesus did have great responsibility - saving the human race - but His mind wasn't pulled here and there, anxious about what had to be done.  No, in each moment, His goal was the same - doing what He knew the Father wanted Him to do.  

I would wager that in the vast, vast majority of situations we encounter each day, we know how God wants us to act - we know the commandments, have heard or read enough Scripture and Church teaching to have an intuitive understanding of right and wrong.  Much of our anxiety probably stems from knowing God's will, but trying to justify going the other way.  Jesus didn't have that.  His yoke was easy and His burden light; He wants the same for us.  "What would the Lord want me to do?  ...  Alright, here we go."

So What's With the "Stations of the Cross"?

This devotion, also called the Way of the Cross, goes back to the early centuries of the Church.  Egeria, a third century pilgrim from Spain to the Holy Land, recorded how people gathered with the bishop late Holy Thursday in the Garden of Gethsemane; and, over the next several hours processed from there, through Jerusalem, to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, built over the site of Jesus’ crucifixion and tomb.

Over time, specific places came to be identified with episodes in Jesus’carrying of the cross – meeting Simon of Cyrene, the women mourning, etc.  The Franciscans, to whom guardianship of the holy places was entrusted in 1342, fostered the devotion of tracing Jesus’ journey to Golgotha.  The number of stations varied depending on which friar led the group, but the path quickly became known as the Via Dolorosa, or Sorrowful Way.

Because many Europeans couldn’t hope to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, the Via Dolorosa was recreated on the grounds of European monasteries and convents.  Some religious orders sent members to measure the exact distance between stations!  Artistic representations of the events were then painted or chiseled as an aid the faithful.    In 1731, Pope Clement XII extended an indulgence to those who made a way of the cross consisting of fourteen stations, and from that point on fourteen has been their number. Clement’s successor, Benedict XIV, encouraged all priests to have the stations erected in their parishes.  We see the success of his efforts whenever we attend Mass.

Making the Way of the Cross is a way for us to meditate on Jesus’ Passion.  Ideally we should bring our own “crosses” to the devotion and unite our difficulties to Jesus’.  At each point in his journey there is a lesson for us, some element to which we can connect our lives.    The fourteen traditional stations are:

1. Jesus is condemned to death
2. He receives the cross
3. He falls the first time
4. He meets his mother
5. Simon of Cyrene helps carry the cross
6. Veronica wipes his face
7. He falls the second time
8. He meets the mourning women
9. He falls the third time
10. He is stripped of his garments
11. He is nailed to the cross
12. He dies
13. He is taken down from the cross
14. He is laid in the tomb

At the beginning of each it is traditional to pray, “We adore thee O Christ and we bless thee, because by thy holy cross thou has redeemed the world.”  We then make an effort to visualize the station as best we can, to place ourselves within our Lord’s body and heart, or within the heart of the Blessed Mother watching these events.  It is common to finish the meditation with the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be.

Those familiar with Scripture will of course wonder about the inclusion of events not narrated therein: three falls, Jesus meeting his mother, Veronica wiping of his face.  The first two points are merely matters of deduction:  To require Simon of Cyrene’s help carrying the cross, Jesus had to be in a weakened condition, and undoubtedly suffered falls.  John’s Gospel tells us that the Blessed Mother was at the foot of the cross.  Wouldn’t she and Jesus have exchanged words, or at least have locked eyes, at some point during his carrying of the Cross?  Veronica wiping Jesus’ face however, does not appear in the written record until the third century.  While it could be historical, a surviving unwritten tradition, I tend to view it as naturally flowing from we Christians’ love for our Lord – our desire to give him some measure of relief during his way of sorrow.

You are certainly free to develop your own stations of the cross too.  In both 1991 and 1994, John Paul II departed from the traditional fourteen:

1. Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane
2. His betrayal by Judas
3. Condemnation by the Sanhedrin
4. Peter’s denial
5. Condemnation by the people
6. Crowning with thorns and clothing in purple.
7. Carrying the cross.
8. Simon of Cyrene
9. Meeting the women of Jerusalem
10. Nailed to the Cross
11. Words to the thief
12. Jesus’ words to his mother
13. Jesus dies
14. He is buried.

May the Lord grant you a profitable Good Friday, my friends.

If Wrong, We Catholics Are SERIOUS Heretics (Holy Thursday Reflection)

Being Holy Thursday, I am thinking about the Eucharist, and it struck me anew how earth-shattering our Eucharistic Faith truly is.  My high school theology teacher, Mr. Burns, nailed it, "After the priest prays Jesus’ words, “This is My body…This is My blood,” you don’t have bread and wine there anymore; it is Jesus!  People, you don’t fall on your knees in the kitchen when you pass by the Wonder Bread.  You go down on our knees in church because that’s not bread anymore, it is Jesus Himself!"

If we Catholics are wrong on this point, then we are not just making a simple mistake; we are guilty of the grossest kind of idolatry - of worshiping a piece of bread as God!   But that is our faith in the words of Jesus - our faith in His power to do absolutely anything!  Jesus said:

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat [“phogein” in Greek, the usual verb for “eat”] the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life within you; 
he who eats [“trogein” in Greek, meaning “to munch or gnaw”] my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.  For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him.” (John 6:53-56, NIV)

The Apostle Paul took Jesus at His word.  Look at what Paul wrote the Corinthians:

"Whoever, therefore eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a man examine himself, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For any one who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself. That is why many of you are weak and ill, and some have died."

(1 Corinthians 11: 27-30)  

And the early Church understood Jesus and Paul every bit as literally as Catholics today.  Listen to my man Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch, writing in 107 A.D.: 

“I desire the Bread of God, which is the Flesh of Jesus Christ, Who was of the seed of David, and for drink, His Blood, which is love incorruptible.”(Epistle to Romans)

“Use one Eucharist so that whatever you do, you do according to God: for there is one flesh of our Lord Jesus Christ, and one cup in the union of his blood; one altar as there is one bishop with the presbytery and the deacons.”  (Epistle to Philadelphians)

"Take note of those who hold heterodox [or heretical] opinions on the grace of Jesus Christ which comes to us, and see how contrary their opinions are to the mind of God ... They abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer, because they do not confess that the Eucharist is the flesh of our Savior Jesus Christ, flesh which suffered for our sins and which the Father, in his goodness, raised up again. They who deny the gift of God are perishing in their disputes." (Epistle to the Smyrnaeans)

That's bold; we Catholics are "all in."  We are not simply another Christian denomination.  Either we have preserved the Faith established by Jesus, or we are idolaters.  For someone who truly wants to live as a disciple of Jesus, it is impossible to be indifferent to the claims made by the Catholic Church.  Either she is the Church founded by Jesus and the Eucharist is literally His body and blood, or she is misleading over a billion people.  But if she's right ... then it is the fullness of the Christian Faith.  Don't you think it's worth a serious study?