There’s an old celtic story from Ireland about a conversation between Mary and Jesus when he was a young boy.
“Are you asleep, Mother?” Jesus asks.
“No, I am awake, dear Son.”
“Why are you awake, Mother?”
“Because I am distressed by a vision of you.”
“What is that vision, Mother?”
“It is a slim dark man, on a black horse, with a long
sharp lance in his left hand. He pierces your right side, and blood gushes
out.”
“Where does the blood fall, Mother?”
“It falls into my heart and into the hearts of all that love you.”
(Celtic Fire, by Robert Van de Weyer, 1990, p. 162-3).
Why do we call this day good? How can we give such a positive appellation for a day of suffering and pain, forced upon one who never deserved such treatment?
In the eastern churches, it is called Great Friday because it stands apart from and above every other Friday of the year. Perhaps the title of good derived from that ancient title many hundreds of years ago.
Of course, we know now why it is Good Friday. In this cross, we discover who we really are. What other people have been bought at such a cost? Who else in the history of humankind has ever willingly died to create a new community, to redeem a new nation?
-Because of this Good and Great Friday, we know that we are loved, we know that nothing – not even death – can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
The blood which gushes forth from the cross falls into the hearts of all that love him. Does it fall into your heart? Does it touch your heart? Are you there, standing with the Blessed Mother at the foot of the cross, gazing on the one who was pierced?
I can think of no better place to stand. Stay there at the foot of the cross. Spend your entire life there with Mary, allowing the awesome majesty of love divine to ever hold sway over your heart and mind.
One more ancient Celtic song for our reflection upon the Cross:
“I adore the suffering King who feels my suffering; I love the sorrowing Lord
who knows my sorrow.
At his death, no fire came upon his captors to
burn them, no great flood rose to sweep them away; the earth did not open to
swallow them up; the sky did not fall to crush them.
No fierce
birds came to attack Pilate; no wild beast mauled the priests and the scribes;
no snake rose up to bite those who whipped Jesus.
He allowed them
to accuse him falsely, without opening his mouth. He let them drag him to the
cross with no words of reproof. He watched quietly as they drove nails into his
hands and feet.
He who created the universe, he who preserves the
universe, he whom the sun and moon obey, he who rules the stars, forsook his
mighty power.
So he suffered with us who suffer much; he sorrowed
with us who feel much sorrow.
I adore the suffering King who feels
my suffering; I love the sorrowing Lord who knows my sorrow.”
(Celtic Fire, by Robert Van de Weyer, 1990, p.167-8).Amen.
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