Upon the cross
as he hung in pain,
between two thieves,
one who mocked
the other more humble,
his body racked with pain unimaginable,
betrayed by his apostles,
who like cowards fled.
One betraying,
another denying,
the others hidden in fear,
something really not so hard to understand,
for the heart of man is divided,
conflicted,
anything is possible;
so in the end he was abandoned,
left alone by his own.
True John was there,
yet being very young
I feel it was the strength of the women
who allowed him to stand there
in their presence,
as they stood before the crucified
nailed and hanging before them;
not afraid to show their love and loyalty
to the one who suffered above.
In seeing all before him
knowing that very soon he must depart
he gasp one last time and said or prayed:
“Father forgive them,
for they know not what they do”.
So the Sermon on the Mount was about Jesus;
his nature.
Love,
compassion and empathy,
for our human condition
is what he felt.
For it is he who turns the other cheek,
who returns good for evil,
loving his enemies
even if it leads to death.
Seeing deep into our souls,
to its very depth,
he loves,
understands in ways we cannot;
thus shows mercy.
Reading the sermon on the mount
and looking into my own heart
I see that I cannot live it,
though I strive,
fall,
get up and fail again,
perhaps at times becoming God’s enemy.
Yet he allows the rain and sun
to fall on the good as well as the evil
showing no partiality,
that is man’s way,
to judge who is worthy
and who is not.
So upon the cross what is revealed?
Is it not my own soul,
the souls of each (?) ,
wounded,
flayed to the bone,
nailed,
by what we call sin,
the chains that bind us
that only love can heal.
For loves power is a paradox,
it takes root in being powerless,
not feeding into our collective rage,
seeking scapegoats,
for Christ is the Scapegoat,
a task he freely embraced
to free us from the bondage of our chains
in the freedom of the children of light,
whom open to grace,
allowing what is not earned
to be given,
mercy beyond all telling.
Our inner world often chaotic,
bound by our times and culture,
so blinded,
trapped,
a rough prison perceived as truth,
in which only mercy can break through.
So we receive what we cannot often give,
and if given,
with struggle mighty,
slow,
for mercy is not mercy if earned,
that is our struggle;
it is a gift,
one hard to bestow,
but easy to receive from others.
Br. Mark Dohle, OCSO
Holy Spirit Moanstery
Thank you, Brother