Chapter 42: Of the bearing by Jesus of His Cross, and His being led forth to the place which was called Calvary

I BLESS You, and give thanks to You, O Lord Jesus Christ, true Vine, Way of Life, and our Salvation, for bearing before all men Your heavy and shameful Cross. For the Salvation of the whole human race, You did vouchsafe humbly to take it up, and most patiently to bear it; that so, upon Your own Shoulders, You might bring back, to Your home in Heaven, the lost sheep so long sought after, and found with so much toil and trouble.

I laud and magnify You, illustrious Standard-bearer of the army of Christ, for Your sorrowful and distressing journey, when, with the heavy wood of the cross roughly laid upon You, You were ignominiously led forth outside the walls of that renowned city, in which You had so often manifested forth Your glory by miracles worked, and holy doctrine taught therein. Now, however, amid the furious outcries of the whole people arrayed against You, You are treated as a comrade of thieves, and a chief of robbers, and are going forth to be hanged, as one utterly vile and worthless, upon the highest cross of all, between two of the worst of malefactors.

I praise and glorify You, most gracious Jesus, for that cruel and most wearisome progress, for that journey amid such horrible surroundings, which You did undertake for us. I praise and glorify You for each step You did take; for the exceeding weariness and weakness of Your Body caused by Your previous sufferings; for the ascents and descents of the winding road, made more grievous to You by the burden of Your Cross; for the haste with which You were at one time urged forward from behind, and at another time dragged roughly on from in front, by the hard-hearted men of the guard in charge of You; hither and thither buffeted about by them. For You could only move with Your Body bent almost double from the weight of that burden, so far beyond Your strength, which You were compelled to bear to the Hill of Calvary. Never before had You trodden so cruel a road; never before had You borne so grievous a yoke.

I laud and magnify You for the despiteful usage You had to endure from those brutish men who led You forth to execution, at one time abusing You, at another ill-treating You. I laud and magnify You for the many vile words which they used to You; for the many false slanders against Your innocence which they hurled at You, as You went Your weary way; for the insolent exultation of Your enemies at the cruel death awaiting You, and for their savage joy at the hope of seeing You hang upon the shameful Cross — amidst all which horrors, heaped upon You from every side, You did go as a meek lamb carried forth for sacrifice, having before You our salvation as Your aim; pitying the blindness of the Jews; and sorrowing over the malice of those who were leading You to the place of execution.

I praise and bless You for the loving hearts of Your friends; for the abundant tears of compassion which they shed for You; and for the faithful companionship of the sad-hearted women, who step by step followed You on Your way, with looks modestly downcast, most bitterly bewailing You. Turning to them. You did restrain their mournful sobs with these gracious words: "Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not over Me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children. For if in the green wood they do these things, what shall he done in the dry?" O how bitter at that time was the grief of those who were dear to You, and how above all bitter was the lamentation of the holy women, who looked at You with eyes full of compassion, but were unable to come near to You, or to save You from going to Your death.

And how inconceivably great must have been the woe which filled, and racked, the Mother's heart of Mary the Virgin, as she saw You, her only, her most dearly loved Son, bearing the Wood of the Cross, and going forth to die! O how willingly, had it been possible, would Your blessed Mother, the most loving Virgin Mary, have endured for Your sake the terrible shame of the Cross; and how gladly would she have offered herself to die instead of You, had she thought that this would have been pleasing to You. But that which was actually not possible, nor permitted, that mentally she did indeed bear to the full; for who, among the sons of men, could compassionate You so fully, could mourn for You so keenly, could so truly bear Your cross with You, as she, who loved You so fervently? No other heart of those who loved You could Your anguish have so deeply pierced, as the loving heart of the one who was Your Mother, the Virgin of surpassing love.

Nor may we doubt that Mary Magdalene, whose love for You burnt so brightly, and the bitterness of whose sorrow for You had made her scarcely able to stand, would, with a supreme effort of love, have willingly joined Your Virgin Mother in laying hold upon Your Cross, and would gladly have borne it with her in Your stead.

The inward burden of Your anguish was thus in many ways increased; for beside it, You did also have to bear the things that came upon You from without, Your being forsaken, namely, by Your disciples, Your Mother's grief, the stumbling-block which Your tribulation was to many, and the faintheartedness of those who despaired of Your Resurrection: for, except that of the glorious Virgin, the faith of all was wavering, or seemed to be extinct.

O faithful disciple of Christ, make you also haste to share the burden of the mystic Cross; and, if you would attain to joys eternal, strive now to follow your Redeemer's steps. Shrink not from the slight hardship of a penance set you, seek not to have the severity of discipline made less; but think that to be easy and light which the Rule of your Order bids you bear; fulfil with joy whatever holy obedience requires of you. Should it seem to you hard to obey its every precept, remember that for your sake Christ became obedient to precepts harder still, even to the most shameful death of the Cross. Keep, then, the strict Rule of the Fathers, quit not the path which leads to a throne. Shun that easier lot, by choosing which the slothful are so often brought to a bad end. On entering Religion, you did indeed take upon your shoulders the Holy Cross, and, on being Professed, you did bind yourself to it still closer. To lead a holy and perfect life in Religion is to follow the Crucified. By observing the Rule of your Order with all your heart, you bear your cross cheerfully. If you bear it unwillingly and grudgingly, not the Glory of Jesus, but the cross of the impenitent thief, will be your reward; but if you endure all things willingly and joyfully, you have in great part won your victory over the evil one. Fear not, therefore, the strictness of your Order, nor count the days long that you pass in it: the love of Christ and the sweetness of a good life will lighten the burden of your hardships. There is One Who lived a life far harder, and Who set you an absolutely perfect example, even Jesus the Son of God, the great Patron of the Cross, Who Himself made full proof of its weight. Follow, therefore, your Saviour along the way of the Cross, by holding fast to your life in Religion, and by never growing careless in the observance of your vows, and you shall be safe for ever. For had you wished to enjoy the good things of this life, or to follow your own business or pleasures, you might have remained in the world. As, however, you have chosen to follow Christ by entering Religion, hold fast to the Rule to which you have promised obedience. Pray Jesus to give you His powerful help in doing this; for He Who at the outset gave you grace to begin well, will doubtless perfect the good work which He began in you.

O my dearly loved Jesus, Prince of the kings of the earth, Leader of the Angelic Host, illustrious Standard-bearer of all Christians, Who, for the salvation of Your servants, and that You might set them a perfect example, did bear upon Your own shoulders Your cross, amidst the jeers and scoffs of the Jews who surrounded You, grant me grace, slow of heart though I be, to follow You along Your weary road; be with me to the end; and then lead, I pray You, my soul, now absent from its true home, from this body of sin to the Mount of Calvary, the hill of myrrh and frankincense, where You were, for my sake, crucified and slain, that there I may rest under the shadow of Your Cross, safe beneath its holy sign. Grant that I may now make a fresh start, and may follow You, not with the infirmity of purpose of those who are neither hot nor cold, but with renewed fervour of heart; keeping my eyes steadily fixed upon You, the Cross-bearer, and not letting them stray hither and thither like those who are inconstant in their ways. Be You my guide along the narrow road, and my companion as I follow it: be You at hand to help me when things are going well with me, to comfort me when they are going wrong, to sustain me in all the trials which I may have to undergo for the sake of Your Holy Name. Help me to bear the burden and heat of the day, that I may be able to join my brethren in every Divine Office and holy observance. Grant me also, in my more serious troubles and anxieties, to call to mind Your most cruel weariness under the burden of Your Cross; for the paltry burden which is laid upon me will seem the merest trifle, if I think of the weight of the heavy Cross which You were content to bear.

May I, then, trusting to the help of Your grace, with a willing heart submit to, and even rejoice in, the burden of the life in Religion which I have taken upon me; for even if for a while, in order that I may win the merit of humility. You do suffer me to feel it heavy, yet afterwards, at such time, and in such way, as You see fit. You do mercifully give me the grace of Your ready help in bearing it. Teach me to conquer my own will, to be content with few things, and not to hanker after leave to walk abroad. May my hands be ever busy in the work which I have to do; may my heart be ever occupied in meditating upon Holy Writ; may all my limbs be employed in Your service, all my senses kept under strict control; number me, I beseech You, poor and of no account though I be, among Your true cross-bearers. Keep me from mixing with men of the world, and mortify in me all the desires of the flesh. May I never concern myself with the affairs of others, nor deal in idle gossip; but may I strive to keep my thoughts fixed upon the concerns of my own inner life, and to grieve in secret, with many a sigh and groan, over all the various things which I have done that I ought not to have done, and have left undone that I ought to have done. May I lay aside everything that would hinder my spiritual progress. May I run in the way of those who seek You, and have learnt to rise above things temporal by keeping their thoughts fixed upon the things that are above. May I ever keep carefully in mind Your Cross, so lovingly borne for my sake; and while I burn with love of the Cross, may I at the same time commit all my ways into Your hands, and resign my will to Yours: and so, patiently and submissively bearing the burden laid upon me, until my appointed time shall come, may I at length reach the wished-for haven of safety and of peace.