March 10, 2010
Seven Last Words from the Cross
Meditation for the Holy Passion of Jesus Christ, the Savior of the World
By Monsignor James Turro
Member of the Board of Directors of the Canons Regular of St. John Cantius
The First Word: Father, Forgive them…
These words of yours, O Lord, are a two-edged sword: they cut both ways. They console me because I know myself to be as guilty as those wretches who drove the nails into your hands and feet. Speak those golden words of forgiveness and peace over me as well.
But at the same time, these words of yours appall me because I understand that in your example I must pardon those persons who have harmed me—toward whom I nurse a powerful grudge. You are asking an awfully hard thing of me—just so you know. The imitation of Christ, to which I am pledged, can at times be excruciatingly hard. I count on the strength of your example and your grace to nerve me, to be able to say and mean to those who have ill-used me: Father, forgive them.
The Second Word: Today you will be with me in Paradise
All I can think of in reading your words, O Christ, is the magnanimous return the good thief receives for his gentle kindness to you. He has spoken the only gracious words to reach your ears on that fateful day. How sad. But what a massive reward he receives for those few kind words. Heaven in return for a simple act of kindness.
I want to hope that all the words spoken in praise of you and your goodness in my times of prayer may bring down a similar avalanche of divine peace and mercy from you into my story.
The Third Word: Woman, behold, your son…
At this moment I am thinking of the remark made by the steward at the wedding feast at Cana: “You have saved the best until now.” From your pulpit, O Christ, that is the cross, you have preached to me mercy and forgiveness: “gather, forgive them.” You have given me a powerful example of refined kindness: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” And now you bestow on me the best gift of all—the gift of Mary as Mother, to care for me, to intercede for me. You give me a rare gift indeed, a presence in my life, to make my heart gentle and my world beautiful—the Madonna. There are no limits to your generosity.
The Fourth Word: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
These words, dear Jesus, taken as they stand speak of a mind-numbing despair. But these are only the opening words of a psalm that is interpenetrated with hope, the psalm which goes on to say, and which you went on to pray: “In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted and you rescued them. To you they cried out and they escaped; in you they trusted and were not disappointed” (Ps 22: 5-6). In reality then, your mood must not have been one of despair but of unshakable trust. In your darkest hour, you expressed your deepest trust. You show to me and to all that “nothing makes us as great as great sorrow” (Alfred de Musset).
The Fifth Word: I thirst
“Whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst.” (Jn 4: 14)
“Whoever believes in me will never thirst.” (Jn 6: 35)
“Let anyone who thirsts come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as scripture says: ‘Rivers of living water will flow from within him.’” (Jn 7: 37-38)
Dear Jesus, it is an exquisite irony that you, who so amply quench the deep-down thirst in people for truth and more precisely for the divine, should yourself have, in that dark hour of your passion, experienced thirst.
I understand that your physical thirst must have been monstrous. The heavy loss of blood from the scourging, the merciless sun of the Near East, the struggle to shoulder the cross through the crowded, narrow lanes to the hill of Calvary, all must have contrived to induce a scathing thirst, endured patiently and lovingly—for me.
The Sixth Word: It is finished
At first glance these words could seem to be desperate and sad, empty of hope. but a second look at them makes them seem to me almost exultant and encouraging as well. It is finished, that is to say, you have reached your goal, your exalted task is now completed. There is a note of fulfillment and even of triumph in what you say. I want to believe that, beyond the strains and struggles in my life, there is some purpose, if nothing else, the fulfillment of your will for me. I should like to think that at the conclusion of each day—not just at the end of my time on earth—I may be able to say with full honesty and deep satisfaction: it is finished—the task you have asked of me this day.
The Seventh Word: Father, into your hands I commend my spirit
In these words you give me the formula for achieving peace and strength not only at the hour of death but in every one of life’s situations: trust in God… What could make more sense in any critical moment than to put myself into God’s hands?
Saint Stephen learned the lesson well: as you died commending your spirit to God the Father, Stephen died commending his spirit to you, God the Son: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.”
You deposited your life with God so that you could come back at a later time—three days later—to reclaim it. A precious reminder of my own immortality. I must place my securely in your loving hands, O God, for safekeeping and so shall I be able to reclaim it beyond death.
As your resignation stirred the on looking centurion to a peerless act of faith, so let my passing be a moment of grace and faith for those who may be on hand.
Monsignor James C. Turro is an adjunct professor of the New Testament at Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary in Philadelphia, PA.