The Glory of the Cross

On this Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, my prayer is that every human person (beginning with my own self, who is always so desperately in need) might be touched, awakened, and changed by the light of the Glory of the Cross -- the revelation and the enduring gift of Divine Mercy that springs from the very mystery of the God who is Love.

Gilded mosaic, Marko Rupnik, Redemptoris Mater chapel (personal chapel of Saint John Paul II)

Saint Bonaventure's Journey

A person should turn his full attention [to Christ],

to this throne of mercy,

and should gaze at Him hanging on the cross,

full of faith, hope and charity,

devoted, full of wonder and joy,

marked by gratitude,

and open to praise and jubilation.

He will experience,

as much as is possible for one who is still living,

what was promised to the thief who hung beside Christ:

"Today you will be with me in paradise."

This is a sacred mystical experience.

It cannot be comprehended by anyone

unless he surrenders himself to it;

nor can he surrender himself to it unless he longs for it;

nor can he long for it unless the Holy Spirit,

whom Christ sent into the world,

should come and inflame his innermost soul.

Hence the Apostle says that this mystical wisdom

is revealed by the Holy Spirit.

If you ask how such things can occur,

seek the answer in God’s grace, not in doctrine;

in the longing of the will, not in the understanding;

in the sighs of prayer, not in research;

seek the bridegroom not the teacher;

God and not man;

darkness not daylight;

and look not to the light but rather

to the raging fire that carries the soul to God

with intense fervor and glowing love.

The fire is God, and the furnace is in Jerusalem,

fired by Christ in the ardor of His loving passion.

Only he understood this who said:

"My soul chose hanging and my bones death."

Anyone who cherishes this kind of death can see God,

for it is certainly true that:

"No man can look upon me and live."

Let us die, then, and enter into the darkness....

Let us pass over with the crucified Christ

from this world to the Father

so that, when the Father has shown himself to us,

we can say with Philip: "It is enough."

We may hear with Paul: "My grace is sufficient for you."

And we can rejoice with David, saying:

"My flesh and my heart fail me,

but God is the strength of my heart

and my heritage for ever."

~Saint Bonaventure (1217-1274)

from The Journey of the Mind to God, ch. 7

Hope in the Face of Death

Marko Rupnik, mosaic (detail) of crucified Jesus

My hope in the face of death is Jesus.

My hope is that I will recognize Jesus in my own death: He who died for me and who "dies with me" -- really it's more correct to say that I am going to "die His death."

The drama of life and death is to abandon myself totally and completely to Him, or at least to throw my whole self -- however wildly and desperately -- upon His infinite mercy.

For me, hope in the face of death doesn't come from trying to isolate my "I" exclusively in the spiritual aspect of myself, while suppressing and devaluing the whole reality of being a bodily person. Sometimes we imagine that in death we become angels, and the human body is shed like a casing that never really belonged to us.

But that is not who we are.

I am a bodily person. My spiritual, immortal soul is also by nature the form of my body. My body is an aspect of me. That is why death, in itself, is such an impenetrable mystery.

But Jesus transforms death, and my hope is that in dying I will "lose myself" only to discover myself fully in Him. In death I shall "lose" my body of this present age in order to live fully, face to face with Infinite Love, as a member of Christ's mystical body (a member of "the Church Triumphant").

This is my hope.

The ultimate fullness of His victory will therefore include my own resurrection, so that the God who is Love might indeed be all, in all.