Holy Week
Our Lady of Compassion,
Pray for us!
Mary of Bethany
Monday
All eyes on Mary as she silently enters
She doesn’t know why,
Why here? Why now? Why in this way?
She follows a prompting and doesn't care what they say.
She loves much, because she has been forgiven much
So she gives freely and without measure.
How scandalous is this outpouring!
Learn from this, Judas
There is more than what you see.
Learn from the pure of heart,
Hands empty,
Friends of God, with nothing to lose,
You’re too rich, Judas
There is more than this “waste”--
The Christ is approaching His hour.
Now is God’s timing:
Kairos
Peter the Apostle
Tuesday
You do not understand what I’m doing but in time you will understand.
Acting in love, but in human reason
“Master, then not only my feet, but my whole self.
I will cross oceans, learn new languages, and do the impossible for you!”
But my ways are not your ways,
I will take care of the process
What it looks like, how much and how little.
I must do what my Father tells me.
Do as I, accept the bitter cup.
Accept and surrender.
My way is the Cross.
Do not insert---
yourself.
Watch and pray.
Simon of Cyrene
Wednesday
What an unexpected burden
A small, reluctant “yes”.
I want to serve but not like this.
Is this what you thought, Simon?
When they forced you to help the Galiean?
What was in His eyes?
You were forced to carry this burden
But what made you carry on?
What did you tell did your son,
Simon of Cyrene?
Like Veronica,
Yet without a veil
On your heart lies the imprint
Of your Master’s face.
A reluctant “yes”,
That gave you everything.
Mary of Clopas
Thursday
Washing the feet of his disciples,
Knowing that tomorrow--they’d would be nowhere in sight
Who stood there?
Mary Magdalene, Mary wife of Clopas, and Mary your mother.
Mary wife of Clopas, who was she?
Neither sinner nor virgin,
No special mission, no special story
But that doesn’t matter to you, Lord
You died for saints and sinners and everything in between.
Salvation was won for ordinary people, on ordinary wood
Your Grace is for all
So here I stand,
My ordinary existence
I have Nothing
Except my presence.
The Fourteen Stations of the Cross
Friday
Worms crawling, winter [tries] to tighten its losing grip
Fourteen stations of the cross, fourteen missionaries bear witness
To the suffering Flesh of Christ in his people.
Raw and ripped flesh
In the abandoned, the disabled, the imprisoned, the sick.
The tabernacle is empty
Where is our Master?
In hearts that are empty
In the abandoned, the disabled, the imprisoned, the sick.
Plans are ripped, but walls are torn
Now my eyes are now open to bear witness
Knots lose their grip in my heart.
For there are two options: fear or faith.
Help me choose Faith!
Instead of “Why me?”
---”Take me.”