The Hundred Meditations on the Passion of Our Lord by Bl. Henry Suso, OP
Christ Crucified by Diego Velazquez
Ah, Eternal Wisdom, my heart reminds you how, after the Last Supper, you went to the mountain and were covered by a bloody sweat because of the anguish of your loving heart.
And how you were captured by your enemies, roughly bound, and wretchedly led away.
Lord, how you were shamefully treated during the night, cruelly scourged, spat upon, and suffered your fair eyes to be blindfolded.
Early in the morning, you were condemned by Caiphas and delivered to death.
Your mother looked at you with boundless grief.
You were ignominiously brought before Pilate, falsely accused, and condemned to death.
You, Eternal Wisdom, clothed in white garments, were mocked as a fool before Herod.
Your comely body was cruelly disfigured and bruised by the savage lashes of the scourge.
Your tender head was pierced by sharp thorns, so that your loving face was covered with blood.
Thus condemned, you were miserably and shamefully led out to your death, bearing your own cross.
Beloved Lord, on the high branch of the cross your clear eyes were dimmed, distorted.
Your divine ears were filled with mockery and insult.
Your refined sense of smell was offended with an evil stench.
Your sweet mouth was offended by a bitter potion.
Your delicate sense of touch was offended by hard blows.
Gentle Lord, your divine head was bowed down by pain and anguish.
Your lovely throat was rudely struck.
Your pure face was covered with spittle and blood.
Your clear complexion was pallid.
Your entire fair body was benumbed.
Beloved Lord, your right hand was pierced by the nail.
Your left hand was transfixed.
Your right arm was stretched out.
Your left arm was painfully dislocated.
Your right foot was dug through.
Your left foot was savagely torn.
You hung there helplessly.
Your divine legs were extremely fatigued.
All your sensitive members were immovable riveted to the narrow halter of the cross.
Your body was bathed in hot blood.
Gentle Lord, on the cross your youthful body was dried up and withered.
Your tired, tender back leaned painfully on the rough cross.
Your strong body sank down.
Your whole body was bruised and wounded.
Lord, and your heart endured all this lovingly.
Beloved Lord, in your death struggle you were mocked with sneering words.
You were mocked with scoffing gestures.
And you were annihilated in their hearts.
You remained steadfast during this treatment.
And you prayed lovingly for them to your beloved Father.
You, the innocent Lamb, were judged guilty.
You were spurned by the thief on the left,
You were invoked by the one on the right,
And you forgave him all his sins.
You opened for him the heavenly paradise.
Gentle Lord, for my sake you were deserted by all men at this hour.
Your friends had forsaken you.
You stood physically naked and robbed of all honor.
Your strength was apparently defeated.
They treated you cruelly, but you endured it all silently and meekly.
Alas, what intense grief your tender heart experienced when you beheld the anguish of your mother’s heart.
You saw her suffering countenance.
And you heard her lamentations.
And in death’s parting you commended her maternal fidelity to your beloved disciple,
And you commended your disciple’s filial affection to her.
Ah, tender, immaculate Mother, I remind you today of the deep grief which you suffered when you first beheld your dear Son hanging above you in the pangs of death.
You were powerless to come to his aid.
You had the painful sight of your Son’s murderers.
You commiserated him very pitifully.
And he comforted you very graciously.
His kind words pierced your heart.
Your woeful gestures softened hard hearts.
You stretched your motherly hands and arms upwards.
But your weak body sank down helplessly.
With your tender mouth you lovingly kissed his outpoured blood.
Oh You, the well-beloved delight of the heavenly Father, when You were abandoned on the cross to all the physical pains of a bitter death, You were also deprived of all interior sweetness and consolation.
You cried loudly and distressedly to your Father.
You united your will completely with his.
Lord, you endured an intense physical thirst.
You also thirsted spiritually with great love.
A bitter potion was given to you to drink.
And when all things were accomplished, you exclaimed: “Consummatum est.”
You were obedient to your beloved Father unto death.
You commended your soul to his fatherly hands.
And then your lofty soul parted from your divine body.
Ah, Lord, remember how the sharp lance was thrust through your divine side.
How the rose-colored, precious blood gushed forth.
How the living water poured out.
Alas, Lord, and at what a painful price you redeemed me.
And how voluntarily and preciously you ransomed me.
O chosen consolation of all sinners, gentle Queen, I remind you today of the time when you stood beneath the cross whereon your Son hung in death. You cast many sorrowful glances upward.
You received his members with maternal affection.
You pressed them lovingly to your bloodstained face.
You kissed again and again his fresh wounds and his dead face.
Your heart then received many mortal wounds.
You heaved many heartfelt, deep sighs.
You shed many bitter, sorrowful tears.
Your sorrowful words were so lamentable.
Your gracious body was very melancholy.
And all mankind together could not have comforted your distressed heart.
O rapturous splendor of eternal light, how completely you are now extinguished by this sight, as my soul itself embraces you with sorrow and gratitude beneath the cross, lying dead on the lap of your sorrowful mother! Extinguish in me the smarting concupiscence of every vice.
O undefiled, clear mirror of the divine majesty, how defiled you now are for love of me! Purify the ugly blemishes of my misdeeds.
O lovely, luminous image of the fatherly goodness, how utterly disfigured you now are! Restore the distorted image in my soul.
O innocent Lamb, how wretchedly you are abused. Amend and repair my guilty, sinful life.
O Kind of kings and Lord of lords, my soul embraces you with sorrow and grief in your abjection. Grant that is may be joyfully embraced by you in your eternal brightness.
Lovable, immaculate mother, remember today your sorrowful behavior when they tore your dead Son from your bosom.
Remember the woeful separation.
Remember the wretched footsteps.
Remember the yearning heart which turned back to him
And remember the faithfulness with which you alone accompanied him in all his trials, even to the grave.
From Chapter 25 of The Exemplar