The great forgiving

There are some who tell me that they love Holy Week,

who am I to disagree with them if that is so,

in my opinion they are lucky to have that feeling,

for me however,

all I can say if truth be told,

is

I hate Holy Week,

my soul feels like lead,

heavy,

perhaps it is pain,

but I get to the point where I just want it to be over

while my teeth grind

as I seek to bear the dark oppression of the passion.

Perhaps it is because Holy Week is about the human condition

what is most feared

or perhaps what I most fear

and seek to flee from.

Abandonment by those I trust,

betrayal of loved ones,

to be abused

physically

and

emotionally,

mocked and dealt with contempt,

to be discounted,

perhaps

this is why I hate Holy Week,

for the passion

deals with what is dreaded by me in my inner depths often hidden,

but

during holy week it comes out parading before me

my fears of what the future holds;

my own inability to see or prevent what will be.

 Jesus embraced it though not without great pain and sacrifice

while I run and seek to hide,

from what I fear more than death,

for death

is simply that,

an ending,

the passion however,

All levels affected by what happened,

the sweating of blood,

the beating when arrested

in which he did not defend himself,

the scourging,

cat o nine tails an instrument of genius

three for the price of one when it came to pain,

ripping into flesh,

flaying without mercy,

then

the crowning of thorns,

the mocking of his divinity by those who did not know or understand,

being rejected

while a murderer being chosen instead of the innocent one,

the cross beam,

the falling and rising again,

the meeting of his mother on the way,

the nails,

thirst,

body stretched,

suffocation and the pushing up to breathe

which only doubled the pain and suffering involved,

thirst,

the vinegar

and

most heart breaking of all,

the great forgiving

of those who caused all of this,

a forgiving that encompassed all of mankind,

from the distant past,

to the present

and the far flung future,

then finally when no more could be born by his abused body,

blessed death,

a cold tomb,

the body no longer feels nor suffers

so yes

no wonder I hate Holy Week

for our own lives are somehow lived out by the Word made Flesh,

Jesus becoming what we love to do,

find a scapegoat,

well we did,

he was it

there is no more need for a scapegoat,

yet that lesson not yet learned by a species slow and irrational,

yet perhaps the miracles of miracles,

loved

by the infinite.

I fear the passion in my own life

in a world where justice is never achieved really,

where the innocent suffer,

are tortured,

killed,

along with the guilty,

though in this world the innocent suffer more

their numbers greater by legion,

with little compassion or empathy from others

apathy a good defense against pain,

yes that is what Passion Week is for me and I dread its coming every year.

The word

taking on what is often fled from by me,

showing me my soul

stretched on the cross wounded by my sin,

seeking only one thing

to forgive

for we know what we do.

Br. Mark Dohle, OCSO
Holy Spirit Monastery