Prayer and Meditation: Meditation on the Passion

KAC's Catholic Meditations Blog ^ | 3/25/07 | Knitting a Conundrum

[Knitting A Conundrum]

When you prayed in the garden, Lord,
and the heaviness pressed all around you
from the weight of all we had had done and would do
echoing in the quiet night,
and you knelt there while the full moon's light
peaked through the olive trees,
Silent witness alone that sees
how you were sweating blood in the depths of your grief.

How heavy did today weigh on your shoulders, Lord,
How this war-torn world of anger and tears
mad with lust, demands and fears
Despising you for what you said about right --
Choosing the darkness and calling it light,
Twisting your words, despising your peace,
hot with hatred and selfishness that never does cease -
Sometimes done for God, sometimes done for gain
Intense the cry, but an ancient refrain--
How careless we are of what you taught.

When they tied you to the pillar, Lord,
and scourged you in the Roman way, cutting like a knife,
a beating so severe that it alone could take a life,
as the weights at the ends of the whips gouged your skin
and the heavy slap of the leather tore you within,
did you see babies ripped from their mother's womb as inconvenient,
the innocents blown up to make a political statement,
the slaughtered millions killed by machete, bomb and gas
because they belonged to the wrong class,
just happened to be the wrong culture or faith or bloodline,
put down for gain or as a warning sign.
Which gave you the most pain the cruel leather across your back
or the way we would hate and strike and attack,
the knowlege how we would reject you?

When you walked that long walk to your death, Lord
with the heavy crossbeam tied across your shoulders
as the proud and hard Romans paraded you and the others
the soldiers hating the noise and the crowd and the foreignness of it all,
and took out their spite by tugging your bonds and watching you fall,
And as they lifeted you back to your feet you saw your Mother there,
and the aching pain passed between you, her grief and motherly care
did you see all the other mothers aching in their pain for their children, too -
The evil to their sons and daughters that others would do,
mothers who watch their children die for others' gain,
mothers weeping in the night in inconsolable pain,
mothers who would cry to you for help.


When they nailed you to the cross, Lord,
and hung you up to die the slow hard death reserved for theives and slaves
in pain and shame and suffocation, until exhaustion takes them to their graves
did our evil make the pain that much sharper to feel?
Did our lack of mercy and love, our evil zeal
echo down the centuries like a pressing weight of lead,
sin upon sin laying on your head
making your sacrifice all the more painful?

And yet, still you managed to love us, and gave us all you had left,
Hanging on the cross, beneath a darkened sky, naked and bereft -
your mother, your forgiveness, your heart's blood.

Dear Lord,
Have mercy on us.

[Knitting A Conundrum]

Dear Jesus, bring to mind often that sad, holy, day
When You changed the world for sinners like me
As You carried that horrendous burden of sin all the way
On Your sinless, torn and battered back to set us free.
The unrighteousness of others rested upon Your head
On You, the Son of righteousness, the Father's gift from above,
The dark sin of mankind  wanted You dead
To put out your light,You who are all love.
And yet, by carrying all that darkness to the grave
You opened that path that would reach out and save.

O Lord, my light and my hope, let me think of the crowd,
And know it was my sins joining the cry
Of angry men in the courtyard screaming so loud
Demanding the cross, that You had to die.
Let me think of the whip slapping hard as it flails --
How my sin was there in the stripes that it left,
Let me know that my hand hammered the nails,
My sins caused pain for your Mother, bereft.
Through all the times I have chosen sin over right,
I was there with the crowd there to darken your light.

O Lord my salvation,  all the days of my life
Let me never take for granted the gift that you give,
the pain and the sorrow, the mocking, the strife
that you bore for me so that my soul might live.
Instead let me offer you at the foot of your cross
the tears of my remorse, bitter as gall,
Repentance of heart for the hard cruel loss
You gave to save me, to redeem one and all.
I offer the sighs of my heart, O Bridegroom divine,
For the love that you have for this poor heart of mine.

Amen.

[Knitting A Conundrum]

Saving victim,
victim by choice,
victim of will,
victim,
hanging there,
adorned in the red blossoms of your own blood,
sacrifice
that opens wide the gates of heaven,
the gates of mercy,
salvation's way,
calling to we poor humans
calling us to the banquet
calling us to the wedding feast
even as our enemies gather forces,
in spite of the war the darkness wages.

Your own heart lights up the way,
your own feet have tread out the path,
your own love made clear the way.

O King,
O Lord,
O Bridegroom!
May we joyfully walk each step of the way
that you have shown us,
this day and always,
Amen.

[Knitting A Conundrum]

Standing in the garden,
beneath the olive tree,
Look at him praying,
alone as he could be
He asked them to watch with him,
He asked them to pray
But the sleep stole over them
As he drew away,

Standing in the garden,
He fell down to his knees,
"Abba, Father, Abba,"
He cried beneath the trees.
He asked them to watch with him,
He asked them to pray
But the sleep stole over them
As he drew away,

"Take this cup away from me,
I do not want its wine,"
He prayed in the midnight,
"Not my will, but thine."
He asked them to watch with him,
He asked them to pray
But the sleep stole over them
As he drew away,

Then standing in the garden,
He knew just what to do,
and woke the sleeping men up
So they would know it too.
No time left to watch with him,
no time left to pray.
The soldiers take him to the priest,
now time to run away,

Forgive us Lord for standing there
when we should be with thee,
forgive us Lord for failing to
come with you and see.
Help us to follow you,
help us to pray
And keep us always close to you
lest we should draw away.

[Knitting A Conundrum]

Passion of my Lord,
strengthen me,
so weak and ready to sin,
may memory of each drop of blood spilled
pour into my heart
like a beacon of love
to pull me back
into the way
of my Lord.

O Jesus!
Bring to mind
each labored, pain-filled breath,
each step towards Golgotha,
each blow,
each word of mocking,
each glance at your loved ones,
each moment of darkness,
undertaken for love,
for hope,
for life.

In my weakness,
bring me here,
to the foot of your cross,
where I,
with the Magdeline,
will weep bitter tears,
where I,
with your Mother,
will watch with breaking heart,
where I,
with John,
shall stand witness to the wonder
Of God, emptying himself out for love,
dying,
that we might live.


When I feel so weak,
and mortal,
and lost,
and alone,
O Passion of Christ,
strengthen me,
that I might always know
the truth,
and in knowing,
be transformed,
safe,
in the heart of Christ.

[Knitting A Conundrum]

Lord,
the pain wraps around us,
throbbing,
throbbing,
like the rhythm
of the hammer fall
piercing,
deeper,
lodging in the wood.

The pain,
oh the pain,
a woman crying out
as her loved one is slain,
a child shocked
at the blood
falling from a beheaded parent,
the armwrenching agony
as they hauled you,
nailed to the crossbeam
up up to the drop,
white pain electric
through your arms
as the beam found the mortise,
like the pain of the tortured
screaming beneath their captor's hands,
screaming as the electricity
screams through their bodies,
throbbing,
screaming,
the pain of being stripped
of everything but the paim
and the stares
as they gambled,
waiting for the blood to fall
for the breath to end
like guards at a starvation ward
waiting for thirst to end his praying,
like nurses piling blankets high
in the name of mercy killing,
the pain,
throbbing,
with each beat of your heart,
each hard sought breath,
like the pain of the deserted,
lost in the wilderness,
aching,
bereft,
afraid of the hand of man,
victim of terror,
victim of rape,
victim of starvation,
scurrying by night
seeing her child die,
like your mother,
watching each last breath,
dying inside
watching your death.

O Lord,
the pain,
you wrapped yourself around it,
accepted it,
tasted it,
drank it
down to the bitter dregs,
and bore all the burden
of man's evil,
of man's inhumanity
down to the pit of death,
walking each step with us,
walking each step along with us,
and accepting that last, lone breath,
shattered the chain.

Lord, in our grief,
hold us,
and tell us
as we unite with you,
as we live for you
you live for us,
and when the pain,
the last ache,
the last throb
is over and done,
you will take us
to where
pain is banished.

Amen.

[La Enchiladita]

Marking to come back here first when I get home and settled in tonight.

[Knitting A Conundrum]

O Lord,
each day that I live
and see
how narrow is the gate,
and how few there are who want to walk it,
and how hard are the hearts of men,
and how willing we are
to sacrifice others
for our comfort
for our gain
for our convenience,
to stoke the fires of anger in our hearts,
to justify our ideals
to give us pleasure,
and I think
that you knew this,
that you could see our hearts
and knew us for what we are,
Still you loved us,
and still you chose the path
from Gethsemane
to Golgotha.

O Best of Lovers,
who has wooed us
with your heart's own blood
forgive us
for so often running away
and choosing the dark.


Amen.

[Knitting A Conundrum]

Lord,
Let me not take it for granted,
each pain filled step
you took that day,
each step a lover's step
beneath the heavy beam,
each pain-wracked breath
a lover's kiss,
the bridegroom on his way
to redeem his bride.

Let me pause and think
of the taste of dust
mingled with blood
you swallowed
willingly
like a cup of wine
to celebrate,
the crown of thorns
you bore like a garland,
the bloodstained robe
your festal garment.

O Lord,
forgive us,
far from being worthy
of being loved,
far from being deserving
of your care,
And yet,
even knowing what we are,
even knowing what we do,
you stretched out your arms
in a lover's touch
to embrace the cross
to take us home
into your heart
into forever.