He had no form or comeliness
that we should look at him,
nor beauty,
that we should desire him.
He was a Man of Sorrows,
acquainted with infirmity.
Jesus, my God, it is said
that you have many friends
in times of ease,
but in the time of the Cross
you are forsaken.
Ah…we do not have eyes to see,
to look beyond the blood upon your face,
to see beyond the pain and sorrow,
yes, to see indeed within and through it,
the glory of God shining,
the radiance of eternal Love
penetrating into the darkness of our world,
transforming all within itself.
The Beloved of every heart,
the One who is
fairer than all the children of men,
the One for whom we thirst…
Jesus, you speak here most deeply,
in silence,
you shine so powerfully,
in the passion of your suffering.
Here, those eyes half-closed, lowered,
nonetheless penetrate deep into us,
yet meekly look away,
thus, mysteriously inviting us
to gaze upon you in return.
The word sounds deep in the heart:
It is the God who has said,
“Let the Light shine out of darkness,”
who has shown in our hearts,
to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God
shining in the face of Christ.
There is such beauty in this encounter,
touching the heart so deeply,
deeper than its defenses, its insensitivity,
reaching beyond the walls built
to protect us from being hurt,
to shield over our inner wounds,
avoiding true vulnerability and openness.
Ah, Jesus, you come to us,
not from outside, tearing open,
but from within, compassionating,
since it was our wounds that he bore,
for our guilt that he was afflicted.
And the awesome things is that,
in the wounds of your hands and feet,
the blood on your face, those sorrowful eyes,
the blood and water from your opened Heart,
we encounter the torrent of eternal Mercy,
the light of eternal Gladness and Joy.
We encounter, Christ, true glory,
not merely dawning from high above us,
but welling up from deep within, transforming,
shining out of our very wounds,
taken up and welcomed, Jesus, by you,
and thus conquered by victorious Love,
made a dwelling-place of grace and redemption.
In this encounter, Jesus, we come to know
the Crucified One, the Compassionate God,
the One risen glorious from the dead,
still bearing our wounds, yet transfigured,
now made wholly glorious and pure.
And this transforms us from deep within,
awakening our compassion for our suffering God,
yet in this very compassion, letting us know,
more deeply, the healing compassion
with which you embrace us, eternally.
Then our hearts begin to unlock,
to blossom more freely from within,
for here they are touched, deeply,
by the healing hand of grace,
by the tenderness of the eternal Father,
by the soft breath of the consoling Spirit,
by the gentle embrace of the Bridegroom Son.
Yes, our wounds begin to show a deeper glory,
this awesome treasure in earthen vessels,
bearing the dying of Jesus at every moment,
yet only so that your life may be revealed,
in us, Christ, and also in our brothers and sisters.
Opening, sharing ourselves, and welcoming others,
we begin to taste the light, the beauty,
but most especially the joy…
of transparency in love.
Ah, yes, the heart learns, slowly but surely,
held by grace, and by grace enfolded, carried,
to allow itself to open up before others,
before brother, before sister,
because open, trusting, before the God of Love.
It learns to show its wounds
in simple and childlike transparency.
This is who I am, broken but infinitely loved.
And precisely in this way, Jesus,
it shares in your own openness,
who share the vulnerability of your Heart with us,
precisely to awaken our own vulnerability,
our giving ourselves to you in return,
thus letting you receive us, embrace us,
and heal us within the tenderness of this embrace.
This is who I am, broken but infinitely loved;
broken, but infinitely loving, from my loving Father,
drawing near to you, so that, taking you into myself,
I may carry you back to him,
there to be embraced, consoled, and healed,
unto an eternity of perfect joy.